


CoSL 6: Killer Looks

by Dracophile



Series: Grimm-The Casebook of Sloane Larson [6]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: F/M, Murder, beauty potion, i watched too much criminal minds again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 19:37:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16270955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracophile/pseuds/Dracophile
Summary: Part 6 of The Case Book of Sloane Larson!Sloane is trying to settle into her new home, and the others are happy to help. But elsewhere in Portland, a woman who's frustrated with her face and her body and her life gets a little help from a friendly hexenbeast to become beautiful like her sister and get the man of her dreams. But when she wants more, how far is she willing to go to become beautiful?





	CoSL 6: Killer Looks

**_O! Beware, my lord, of jealousy; it is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on!_ **

\----------------------------------

**Killer Looks**

\----------------------------------

Margo Barnett looked down at her phone, pulling the YouTube timeline back again. The perky, conventionally attractive young woman explained again how to highlight her cheekbones and darken her cheeks just slightly to give the illusion of high, well-shaped cheekbones and jawline. Margo was fairly certain this make-up guru already had them, and thus was cheating, but she tried again. Frowning, Margo clicked her tongue and tried to wipe the contour back into line. It didn’t work, smudging it worse. She growled and threw the brush on the floor in frustration.

“Hey, Margo? Everything okay?” her sister asked outside the door.

Looking at herself, she had to sigh and admit defeat. There was no amount of make-up that was going to make her round face more angular and thin. With the dark bronzer and too light highlight cut up her skin like a Picasso painting, the mascara was already clumping, and the lipstick was too dark. None of the colors suited her skin-tone either, even though she’d done her best to match them, and made her acne-scarred face look like the surface of a barren planet with all its dips and craters. “Fine…”

“Okay…” she said, yawning. “I’m going to grab some cereal. It’s going on 8:30 though; shouldn’t you be getting to work?”

Margo cursed, looking at her phone for the time. Running the water, she quickly scrubbed her face with remover and dried it. Then she had to change her shirt because it got wet, which sucked because it was one of the few flattering shirts she had that she really liked.

Getting changed and applying just the simplest make-up she usually did, she headed down stairs.

Her sister looked up and smiled. “Hey. Good thing you live close to work, huh?”

“Yeah…” Margo tried not to glare at her sister, but it was hard. Even without make-up Haylee was the opposite of her: Tall and statuesque, warm, sun-kissed tan skin, good bone structure that was easy to see because she was blessed with a good metabolism. She had her dark hair dyed blonde and pulled off the messy ponytail perfectly. And even in a shirt and pajama shorts she looked good. In short, she was hot. And while not ugly, Margo was shorter, larger, and planer than her sister in every way. No one ever believed they were twins.

“God, I’m still jet-lagged,” she said sleepily. “Remind me never to take a red-eye again.”

“Think how it was for me picking you up,” Margo said.

“Hey, I told you I was fine taking an Uber. Oh, look what I found last night!” She held out a picture. “It’s us back in middle school. God, we were so young…”

Margo took the photo and looked at it with a bit of nostalgia. Back then, she and Haylee looked a lot more like twins, before she ballooned up because of puberty. She tried not to dwell on how unfair it was Haylee came out like a swan and she was just an ugly duck, scarred by painful acne and a slow metabolism. But back then they had looked like twins, even more so in matching N’Sync Concert T-shirts.

“That was a good night…”

“Hell yeah it was!” Haylee grinned. “My dreams of being Mrs. Timberlake may have fizzled out, but it was still amazing.”

Margo huffed a laugh and handed it back. “I was ready to fight you for that title too. Better than being Mrs. Curtis…”

Haylee frowned. “Margie…”

Margo shook her head. “It’s fine. Anyway, you got the house for today. Try not to go nuts.”

“My party girl days are winding down, I’m mostly just going to rest and keep going through pictures.”

Margo paused, glancing over to see the photo albums open on the table. “Why are you looking through photos all of a sudden?”

“Oh, Phoebe Lafayette messaged me on Facebook,” she said, trying to be nonchalant.

“Excuse me?” Margo said, her guard immediately up and her tone sharp.

“Chill, Margo, we’re not friends,” she said with a mollifying tone. “She remembered I was on the yearbook committee and wanted to know if I had any pictures from our senior year for the slideshow.”

“A slideshow? Seriously?” she asked snidely.

“I think its pretty standard for a high school reunion, sis,” she said. She then paused and gestured at her own cheek near her ear. “You, uh, got a little something there...Bronzer?”

Margo clicked her tongue and tried to smooth it out and away. “I was trying something different. It didn’t work. Mom’s makeup lessons never worked for me,” she added a touch harshly.

“…Oh, and John texted while you were getting ready, he’ll be in town tonight.”

Margo froze. “Tonight?”

Haylee smirked. “Yep. So, uh, get ready for that. Oh, and here.” She handed her a magazine, one of those very Cosmo like ones. “This has the article I wrote in it. Check it out.”

 Margo swallowed, trying to calm down, and headed out, now distracted. “I’ll just, uh…check it out at lunch. I gotta get going or I’ll be late.” Grabbing her briefcase, she headed out the door.

\---------------

Sloane set another box down in the spare room of her new house. It was her day off—the first in a week it felt thanks to a homicide case that didn’t involve any wesen. It wrapped up once they got the son’s bank statements showing he’d killed his father for his inheritance to help his massive debt. He folded like a napkin when confronted under the weight of the guilt. But now that was over and she had finally been able to square up with the motel and move the last few bits of her things in. The furniture Rosalee left almost two weeks ago were where they should be, and a new mattress was delivered just the other day. So it was just a matter of figuring out where her things would go. This was the second to last trip to her car and then it would be just a matter of figuring out where to put things.

She paused heading to the door however when she heard her phone ring, resting on the counter in the kitchen. Looking at the ID, it was a number she didn’t recognize. On instinct she let it go, but waited. A minute later, the same number popped up in another call and she grabbed it and opened the line. “Hello?”

“Hello there.” She smiled a little at Kelly’s voice and leaned against the counter. “You still remember to pick up on the second call.”

“Given that’s your code it’s you calling, yeah,” Sloane said. “You okay?”

“Not exactly, no.”

Sloane straightened, on alert now. “You need help?”

“Not immediately. Just having some trouble completing what I came over here to do…Made all the more complicated by a Royal ending up dead.”

“A royal?”

“Yes. Prince Eric of some such. Assassinated apparently, car bomb. It was two months ago and they’re still paranoid and trying to find who did it, to the point they’re trying to search random people.”

_Eric…Renard’s brother that tried to kidnap Nick?_ “That sounds…infuriating.”

“A bit, yes,” she said, though the calm tone Kelly normally had didn’t betray and extreme emotion. Sloane rather envied her control. “I’m gonna try again, but I don’t see much luck on my side.”

“Don’t suppose you can be more specific?”

“I’m afraid not. It’s not that I don’t trust you, Sloane, you know I do. But the fewer people that know, the safer everyone is.”

“I understand.” And she did, even if her curiosity was disappointed.

“So, what about you?”

“Uh…Well…I’m doing pretty good,” she said, trying to be honest but slightly evasive.

There was pause and Sloane sighed a bit, knowing what was coming. “What’s wrong, Sloane?”

“Nothing…exactly. Just…I’m staying in Portland for a while,” she finally sighed. It was strange to admit to someone who she’d often adamantly tell she didn’t want to set up roots.

“You are?” Kelly asked, genuinely surprised. “Wait, so you made it to Portland?”

“Yeah. Got here around March actually.”

“It’s October…have you been there this whole time?”

“Well…yes…” Sloane huffed a bit. “At first it was to train Nick, because your son is a freaking bleeding heart I was convinced was going to get himself killed,” she ground out.

“Ah…so you’ve met him and his friends,” she said knowingly.

“Yes. And I would’ve appreciated a heads up that he associates with wesen, including a Blutbad!”

“I know, I know. But I thought if I told you, you would…do something rash.”

“I almost did,” Sloane huffed. “At least by his standards. I met the blutbad and Rosa…the Fuchsbau by accident first and almost took them both out.”

“You need to work on that,” Kelly said. “I know Deirdre taught you different, but not every wesen you see has to die on sight.”

“I don’t kill _every_ wesen I meet,” she said, a touch defensively. “And I’m not doing much killing at all now thanks to your son.”

“What do you mean?”

Sloane sighed again. “I agreed to stay for a while talking with Nick’s…boss, the police captain. Apparently he’s in on all this too. He convinced me to stay because apparently Portland is a hotbed for wesen activity. He’s not wrong either, this place is like a damn magnet.”

Kelly gave a soft chuckle. “Yes, it does seem that way.”

“However,” Sloane added. “I can’t actively “hunt”. I have to wait for cases to come my way. I thought about leaving more than once, but…”

“But?”

“…I’m learning things here. As much as I hate to admit it. The experience could be valuable,” she said honestly.

Kelly sounded pleased, though Sloane wasn’t sure why. “That’s a good attitude to have. No matter how much you study, you should always have new things to learn, especially as a Grimm.”

“Deirdre would pitch of fit if she knew who I was learning from…” Sloane said with a shudder.

“Yes…but then, I don’t’ think her teachings ever suited you well.” Sloane frowned and was about to ask what she meant when Kelly went on. “I should probably go. I just wanted to check in on you. Are you still looking out for Nick now that you’re staying?”

She thought about his odd changes lately, since the Zombie incident, but decided not to bring that up just yet. Kelly had enough to worry about at the moment it sounded like. “…As best I can. Your son is also a trouble magnet, even for a Grimm.”

Kelly did laugh then. “Yes, that hasn’t changed much…thank you, Sloane.”

Sloane felt herself blush a little at the warmer tone. She wasn’t used to that sort of tone and it made her feel strange. “It’s fine, really…”

“If it’s alright, I may call you more often to check in on you and Nick.”

She smiled. “That’d be good by me.”

“Good. Take care.”

They hanged up and Sloane sighed a little before going to finish bringing up boxes.

\---------------------------

Margo sat at a table outside the café at her office, flipping through the magazine Haylee had given her again. Looking through at all the women not like her that graced the pages, she sighed and closed it. She tried not to let it get to her, she did, but when a reminder of how the masses saw her as inferior was everywhere it was hard. Haylee’s article—a good read on women’s health and how doctors never listen—was buried in between advertisements on anti-aging creams using models who didn’t need them and lingerie adverts with women who were airbrushed so much they looked like they were made of velvet. It felt a bit hypocritical.

“Hey, Curtis!” She looked up, frowning when she saw her coworker Emma coming over. Emma looked like she should be in that magazine, all blonde hair and pouty lips. Why she was an accountant was beyond Margo, especially because she tended to parse as much of her work out to others as she could. Margo knew because she was a Senior Accountant, but Emma had been promoted to her equal months ago after just two years. She wanted to believe she earned it, but given how tightly tailored her suit was it made it hard to take her seriously.

“It’s Barnett now.”

“Oh, right, sorry, the whole maiden name thing,” she said. Margo had a feeling she wasn’t really sorry and wondered if that was a dig. “Look, I have a favor to ask. Could you finish up those reports for Klineman this afternoon?”

“What? Why can’t you?” she frowned.

“I’ve got a family emergency. I’m heading out soon, Mr. Baker Okayed it. But those need to be finished. And since you’re the other senior accountant…”

Margo didn’t really like how she framed “senior”; she was only 28, only three years older than her. “I’ve got something to do this evening.”

“You’re so good, I’m sure you’ll get done! Please? It’s really important,” she said more sincerely. “I promise I’ll pay you back somehow. Plus Baker’s already Okayed it, like I said.”

“Did he realize those were due today?” she asked blithely. “What is so important?”

“I forgot…” Emma said evasively. “And it’s personal.”

Margo sighed, knowing it was going to easier to say alright than deal with her any further. “Yes, fine. Just send them to me.”

“Oh, thank you so much! I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” She quickly walked off and Margo sighed, texting her sister she would probably be home late. Haylee’s reply was a sad face but they left it at that.

Sure enough, it was very late in the afternoon before she got out of the office. She was about to text Haylee again when she noted something new on her timeline on Facebook. It was Emma, taking a selfie with a bunch of friends at a spa, posted moments ago. She must’ve forgotten they were ‘friends’ because Margo rarely posted anything. “Family emergency my ass…” Margo muttered. “Just wait until I get my hands on that lying little…”

She paused when her foot went down on something that wasn’t sidewalk and stepped back. On the ground was a wallet, and a very expensive one at that if she was to believe the label. Picking it up, she inspected it. Strangely, there was no credit card or ID, but she was shocked by the amount of cash inside. This would be tempting for someone to steal.

But, Margo had been raised right and wasn’t hurting for money. Where the ID should have been she found several business cards for the same shop. The card was black with a stylized white flower on the front framed by two crescent moons on the left and right, _Moonflower_ written below as well as the address and phone. Logically she decided this must be where this person worked, or at least someone would hopefully recognize the wallet. It wasn’t far from where she was, so she made her way the two blocks over in the shopping district.

She came to a stop outside a shop where brick was painted black, and the script on the window read in scrawling white letters _Moonflower_ _Beauty Co._ Inside it looked like a normal high-end beauty store. Soaps, lotions, make-up and accessories were all laid out beautifully, and much of it looked natural and handmade. It smelled wonderfully fresh as well, like a field of flowers and fresh cut grass, but not so overpowering it made her head spin. She walked around, picking up a piece of soap that was pale pink with bits of roses in it. It was very well made, and expensive. Setting it down again, she moved further in. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

She heard movement near the back and reluctantly moved further in. There she saw the back door was open, and someone was struggling to get through with an overloaded dolly. One box was precariously about to tip over. “Whoa, hey, hold on!” She rushed over and quickly grabbed the box, pulling it off, and then kept another from falling.

“Hello?” A voice behind them asked.

“Yeah, hi. Hold on a sec, okay, these are all about to fall.” Quickly she set down the box she had in her hands while bracing the other with her knee, then grabbed that one and set it aside as well.

“Oh, thank you so much,” the person sighed. She came out from behind the boxes and Margo felt a flash of surprise and envy when she saw her. She was tall, willowy, with her black hair cut in a bob and her pale skin almost luminescent in the gentle lighting of the store. Her make-up was done perfectly as well, framing her almond shaped eyes and accentuating her cheekbones in a way Margo never could manage. She was dressed in a bohemian chic cream colored top and long flowing black skirt, a pale blue apron over the front.

“No problem. But you did kind of overload this thing…” she said bluntly. She always had to be the one to fix problems.

“I know,” she sighed. “They were supposed to come earlier when my employees were still here, but the time came for them to go home and _then_ the deliveries come…So I tried to cut corners and load it up high to go faster.” She wheeled the dolly in and set it in the corner. “I may schedule my deliveries on different days from now…There’s quite a learning curve to this.” Swiping her hands down her front, she smiled. “I’m Angela Tien, the owner of this shop. Thank you again for your help. We’re about to close, but I’m happy to stay open a little longer to help you.”

“Actually, I’m here to see about returning this. I found it a couple blocks over.” She quickly pulled out the wallet and held it up.

“Oh my!” Her face lit up. “You found it! Thank you!”

“No problem…Um, there wasn’t an ID or any cards inside, just a bunch of cards for this business…” She said, handing it over.

“Yes, this is my shop wallet. To keep things for the shop separated from my personal things. I just about cried thinking I lost it, with so much money inside too…” She looked up, pausing as she was opening it.

“What’s there is what I found it with,” Margo said honestly. The woman took out the cash and quickly counted, smiling once again.

“And it’s all here. Oh, thank you so much I’m just getting started and losing this was a big blow. I’ve been calling and looking all over for it. It must’ve fallen out when I ran to buy some extra ribbon for the bags.”

Margo smiled, feeling better at making the woman’s day. “No problem, really…”

She tilted her head. “Are you sure? You seem…troubled?”

Margo blinked and then shook her head. “Oh, it’s nothing! Sorry…”

The woman seemed to look at her searchingly for a moment before she nodded. “Let me put this up. Feel free to look around, I’d be happy to reward you for saving my poor wallet, and probably me having to clean up a lot of broken soap and bottles.”

Margo nodded and started walking around. She was trying to find something small but nice that she would use if the woman insisted on her getting something. Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out to look at a text from Haylee.

**_Haylee:_ ** _John and I are going to grab dinner, let me know when you’re heading home!_

Margo felt a pang in her chest and glared at her phone.

“What’s troubling you?”

Margo looked up to see the woman was there again. “What? No, I’m…”

The woman regarded her again before smiling at her in understanding. “You try not to complain out loud, am I correct?” she guessed. Margo frowned, unsure how to respond to the gentle but knowing tone.  “Don’t worry. I have a sixth sense for these things. I find I’m able to help find a solution fairly often.” She gestured for her to follow her walking towards a small sitting area. A small bistro table in white painted wrought iron and matching chairs with pale periwinkle cushions was there. “What’s your name?”

Margo sat down slowly, unsure why she was so at ease with this strange woman. “I’m Margret... Most people call me Margo.”

She nodded and propped her chin on her hands. “Very well then, Margo…what is trouble you?” Margo hesitated, not sure she should talk about it to a stranger. Angela seemed to sense this as well and airily waved a hand. “I’m not a gossip, don’t worry. Like I said, I enjoy fixing people’s problems. But I need to know what yours is.”

“…I’m not sure you could fix this. Not unless you could make me beautiful,” she said with a chuckle.

Angela tilted her head. “What makes you believe you aren’t?”

Margo laughed a bit more hollowly. “Oh, don’t try that inner beauty stuff on me. I’ve come to know what a load of bull it is.” Angela raised an eyebrow and Margo took a deep breath, feeling herself speaking before she really even thought of what to say. “I’ve had a hell of a year. My husband of five years left me for another woman. My job promoted a girl who’d been there a third as long as me and had no idea what she was doing to my equal position, probably because she’s sleeping with one of the supervisors. Or he wants her to. She tricked me into working overtime for her today. And I’ve got my high school reunion coming up in oh… days. So just…stress. Stress, stress and more stress. Got something for that?”

“Of course…but that’s not what you asked for first,” Angela said. “You asked to be beautiful. All this makes you believe you need that? Or something else?”

Margo hesitated, unnerved at how this woman could seem to find the deeper feelings in her so easily. Was it just her or did her eyes glow slightly? Must be a trick of the light. “…I’m a twin. Fraternal though, and anyone can tell that. My sister is gorgeous and I am…not. She took after our mother, who was also gorgeous—and there was a little bit of favoritism there. Looks were always big to mom. And it’s not fair. Because we were both the same once, we did look like we could be identical once. But puberty hit and it hit me _hard_ , and she just breezed through it. I was the target of bullies, especially this horrible girl named Phoebe. And she, my sister…she got the attention of all the boys and clubs and all that. Everyone wanted her to be their friend or their girlfriend. My mom had all these hopes and dreams for her…She had the kind of time in high school I wanted. Then she moved to New York to try and be a writer—not a model like mom wanted—and I became accountant here in Portland so I could look after our mom while still going to school and she was in the hospital most days. Cancer.”

“I’m so sorry,” Angel said gently. “That must’ve been hard.”

“Yeah… She died just after I graduated college and I still just stayed here. Even less remarkable somehow. I thought I lucked out with Dan—I mean, mom didn’t like him but that wasn’t surprising. Dan and I got married, but the moment he thought he could do better he was gone. And to make it all even better,” she laughed, almost crying, “my high school crush, one of our best friends, is in town now too. And he’s gonna see how far I’ve gone. Exactly nowhere, still the town we grew up in, still “Large Marge”, as everyone called me. Nothing’s changed in the ten years since high school, except maybe I’m even more pathetic for feeling the same way I did then. Like I don’t matter if I can’t be pretty...I’m stuck,” she choked out.

Angela nodded slowly. “That is tough…”

Margo sniffed, blotting her eyes. “Yeah, well…just how things, are, right? If I can’t fit in the box, I don’t fit in. Man, I’ve been holding that in for a while, sorry…I don’t even know why I told you all that, sorry.”

“No trouble, I pried it out of you so to speak…But I think I can give you something to help.”

“What?” Margo asked in surprise, laughing a little. “You got like…beauty pills or something?”

“Or something. Like I said, I owe you. Please, wait here for a bit.” Standing, she walked over to a door to a back room and closed the door behind her. Margo wasn’t sure what was going on, but something was compelling her to stay seated.

It was about 30 minutes later that she was thinking of knocking on the door or just leaving when Angela came back out. She walked over and presented her with a sphere about the size of her fist that was colored dark blue with streaks of gold and silver. “…A bath bomb?” She asked, unsure if she was serious.

“I know it doesn’t seem like much, but trust me. Take a bath with this tonight. You’re going to have to submerge yourself completely three times—that means holding your breath and going under. Come up for air after you count to ten. Then count to thirty and go back under. Again, do this three times. Then, fill a jar with water from the bath and screw it on with a tight lid. Rinse off. Place the jar in a window and let it soak up some moonlight. In the morning, before the sun rises, wake up and drink it.”

“I’m sorry, drink the bathwater?” Margo said, looking at her with what she hoped was a good “are you insane” expression. She backed up slightly, wondering if she should run for it. Angela gently took her hand however and placed the bomb into it.

“I know this sounds crazy, but I promise you this will work. I’ve given it to many a woman before who needed a little help to feel and look her best. It’s not the most powerful version, but it will get you started down the path you want and “unstuck” shall we say. After that it’s up to you.”

Margo blinked, looking at the sphere in her hands. “…So I drink this?”

“Yes. You’ll feel drowsy afterwards, go back to bed and the next time you wake, you should be changed. Oh, but you may want to take a shower before you look and exfoliate. A little dry skin afterwards is a side effect, but it can be scrubbed off.”

“Really? One night and a little dry skin, that’s all?”

“That’s all.”

Margo stared at the rock-like sphere in her hand and then back up at her, unsure. “…This sounds like magic…”

Angela smiled in amusement, and Margo gasped when her eyes seemed to glow golden in the shop’s light. “Of course. What did you think it was?”

\-------------------------------

Sloane waited in line for her sandwich at the little deli in walking distance from her new house. It was a quaint mom and pop shop and she liked it. While she was waiting, her phone dinged with a message and she pulled it up.

**_Rosalee:_ ** _Are you home?_

She arched eyebrow but typed back.

**_Sloane:_ ** _Not right now, but I’m back soon. Why?_

**_Rosalee:_ ** _Stopped by to give you something. ;3_

Sloane blinked at the little face but just shook her head.

**_Sloane:_ ** _Be there soon. Let yourself in, you got a key still._

**_Rosalee:_ ** _okay_

A couple of minutes later her sandwich was ready and she had it made to go, then headed back towards her house. She saw Rosalee’s car just in front of her house and smiled, heading up to walk through the door. She was confused when the lights were off and reached up to turn them on.

“Surprise!”

Sloane nearly dropped her food, managing to tighten her grip instead in case she could throw it, and reached for her knife as she flattened herself against the door. Everyone—Rosalee, Nick, Juliette, Hank, Monroe, Bud—paused and then looked at her panicked look.

“Told you guys startling a Grimm wasn’t a good idea,” Bud said.

“…What are you all doing?” Sloane asked, letting go of the knife handle. She was still a wild-eyed.

“House warming party,” Rosalee said, trying not to laugh. She walked over. “I thought making it a surprise was the best way for you to let us do it because you’d refuse.”

“…For future reference, please don’t do that again…” she said quietly, not quite meeting her eyes. “I almost…” _Threw my knife at you. It probably would’ve hit you or Juliette…_

“Sorry,” she said more seriously, giving her a hug.

Sloane relaxed and patted her shoulder awkwardly. Hugs were still a new thing Rosalee was trying to get her used to. “I appreciate the thought,” she said honestly, if a little hesitantly. “So…how does a housewarming work?”

“Well, we brought food,” Nick said. “Which you apparently went to get,” he added with an embarrassed look at the bag.

She shrugged, not upset. “It’ll keep, I’ll have lunch covered for tomorrow. Is there cake?”

“Oh, is there!” Bud said. “My wife takes any excuse to bake. Oh, and no offense to the previous owner,” he said, glancing at Rosalee, “But I see a few things you could have tuned up or repaired around here. I’ll make a list of what to look out for.”

Sloane smiled a little, following them to her dining room. There was a nice spread of finger foods laid out, and a big cake that looked like a house made from vanilla cake with a layer of chocolate in between. They began eating and chatting, Sloane describing some of what she was thinking of doing as far as where to put things.

“Oh, we got you presents,” Juliette said.

“What, really?” she asked in surprise.

“Yes, it’s tradition,” Rosalee said. She pulled out a box and handed it to her. “This is from Monroe and me.”

Sloane resisted eyeing Monroe but opened the box up. She blinked, pulling out an electronic device of some sort. “Uh…What is it?” She looked over the packaging that noted several apps and services.

Rosalee smiled. “It’s a streaming device. You can watch Netflix, YouTube, even TV on here using your Wi-Fi.”

“We figured, since you’re not traveling much and haven’t seen TV or movies in a while, you can use this to catch up in your spare time. And you know…actually try to relax,” Monroe said.

“...Huh…that…actually sounds really nice,” she admitted. “You guys keep talking about things I haven’t seen and it’s gotten me kind of curious.”

Rosalee smiled and hugged her shoulders.

“There’s a list of stuff we all recommend too,” Juliette said, pulling it out. “You still have to pay for some of the services, but it’s pretty good if you don’t want cable.”

“Sounds cool,” she smiled.

“I just got you a few bottles of wine,” Hank said, pulling them out.

“That will be good while watching some of these,” Juliette said with a wry grin. Sloane smiled, taking the bottles and looking them over. Merlot, good in her book.

“Here’s mine and Juliette’s gift,” Nick said, handing her what felt like a basket wrapped in paper.

Opening it up, it was full of little things for the kitchen like measuring cups and spoons, new spatulas and stirrers and strainers, and a beginner’s book on cooking. Sloane smiled wryly. “Is this your way of saying “Go easy on the take out” from now on?”

“Maybe a little…” he said delicately.

“But this book is really good, it’s the same one my mom got for me when first started living on my own,” Juliette said.

Sloane picked it up and flipped through. “This is pretty sweet…thank you.”

“I got you a tool kit,” Bud said, pulling out a black case with a bow on it. “I know we’re not, well…close, but everyone needs a good tool kit, especially homeowners.”

Sloane smiled, taking it and looking through. “It’s great, Bud, and I’m sure it’ll come in handy. Thank you.”

He grinned.

“Oh yeah, Renard sent this on,” Hank said, offering her a small box.

Taking it, she opened it up and blinked. “A…bar of soap.” She tipped it out, examining it. It was a swirl of mint green and dark blue and purple, with a piece of paper wrapped around it. The logo was a white flower with two crescent moons on either side, _Moonflower_ scrawled in cursive script beneath.

“Oh, hey, is that _Moonflower_?” Monroe asked. “I get that stuff all the time. It’s all natural, really high quality stuff.”

She arched her brow. “Really?”

“Hey, don’t write it off. After a couple of messy jobs with Nick, that stuff makes me clean as a whistle and smelling like a rose. And it keeps my skin soft.” He gave a smile to Rosalee who just smiled and nodded in agreement. “I usually get it online, but I heard they’ve opened a physical store too.”

Sloane looked at it a bit more considering, looking at the label. “‘Geranium oil, Bergamot oil, Lemon Oil, and Lavender. To de-stress your life.’ De-stress? Not sure that’s possible…” She sniffed it. “…It does smell nice though.”

\---------------------------------

Margo headed into her apartment, the little silver and white striped bag with the “magic” bath bomb in her purse and a container of Chinese take-out in her hand.

“Margo? That you?” Haylee called.

“Yeah,” she called, locking the door behind her.

“You weren’t working the whole time were you?”

“No, I ran a quick errand and then got dinner for me since you and John went out-John?!” She jumped when she saw the man on the couch with her sister. He grinned and got up.

“Margo! It’s great to see you in person again.”

Margo bit her tongue at saying how good it was to see him. John was tall, with dark skin stretched over a well-kept body and finely angled face. In their youth he’d kept his hair in a sort of wild afro style, but now it was closely cropped and groomed. Margo liked both looks, but then she’d like anything he did she was sure. When he wrapped his arms around her, she prayed he couldn’t hear her heart the way she could feel it. She almost brought the hand with her food in to hug him, but quickly switched to the other.

“You too! Sorry, I had thought you’d got back to your parents place after…”

“I wanted to at least say hi. I haven’t seen you in a while; I was missing my best girl.”

Margo tried not to get a sappy grin, but did smile widely.

“I thought I was your best girl?” Haylee said teasingly. That roused Margo back to the fact they weren’t alone.

“You’re both my best girls?” he tried with an apologetic smile. He looked back at Margo with a gentler look. “But no, seriously, you look good. How you holding up?”

Margo breathed and shrugged, knowing he was implying the divorce finalizing just a couple of weeks ago. “As well as I can be…”

He hugged her again. “Well, you’re a strong girl, I know you’ll get through it fine.” Letting go, he turned back to the couch. “Haylee and I were looking through some old pictures. Apparently Phoebe is doing a slide show.” He rolled his eyes and Margo grinned.

“I know.  Knowing her it’s going to be a minimal effort PowerPoint, with all the cheesy transitions.”

“Oh, definitely. Want to make bets on the music to go with it? I’m betting on Green Day’s “Time of your Life”.”

“Oh god, that’s going to be like a memorial, not a reunion,” she groaned.

“Maybe it is, to the last time she actually had any sway with people. I’ve heard she’s between jobs, so that’s why she can devote so much time to this.”

Margo laughed, nearly cackled, at that.

“Okay, if I can interrupt the schadenfreude lovers meeting,” Haylee said, “Margo probably wants to eat before that gets cold, and you still need to find a picture where you don’t look like a sheepdog with your hair in your face.”

“Hey, I was an adorable sheepdog,” John said defensively, going back over. Margo went to sit across from them, looking at the pictures scattered over her coffee table while she unpacked her food to eat. She started eating her lo Mein and looking over photos with them. As they did though, she couldn’t help but watch John. And more specifically how John interacted with Haylee. They were always all friends, growing up together, but how close he sat to Haylee and how they leaned into each other made her gut twist. And then—thinking probably no one was looking—she saw the look John gave Haylee. Soft, warm, longing—everything she wanted. And once again, it was not for her. Every time, after she finished eating and kept trying to get his attention, it always felt like it went back to Haylee.

“I…I’m gonna take a bath and probably go to bed. I’m kind of tired.”

John looked up, his face going back to his normal friendly look, and smiled. “Okay. We’ll chat more tomorrow?”

“That’d be great. Goodnight.”

She put up what food was left and plucked the striped bag from her purse.

\-----------

In the end, the others ended up helping Sloane set up the streaming device. Monroe and Rosalee offered up their password to Netflix and Sloane started scrolling through the movies curiously. She’d paused when she got to the classics section, looking strangely nostalgic. And in the end they put on _Roman Holiday_ to watch as a group.

“Gregory Peck really was handsome…” Juliette sighed wistfully.

Nick arched his eyebrows at her where she was resting against her shoulder. “Oh? So what, he’s your type?” he asked teasingly.

Juliette rolled her eyes. “I’m not saying that necessarily…I had a thing for John Stamos growing up.”

“Oh, ouch…” he laughed.

“I liked Danny on _Full House_ ,” Rosalee said. “I like tall lanky guys.” She wiggled her eyebrows up at Monroe from where she rested on his shoulder. He grinned back and gave her a peck on the lips. “What about you?”

“Me? Um…Hm…Probably gotta say Kelly from _Saved By the Bell_ ,” he said, blushing and laughing.

“What about you?” Juliette asked Nick.

 “Uh…Darryl Hanna from Splash comes to mind.”

“Her specifically or did you have a thing for mermaids? Because they are real competition now,” she pointed out.

“You have no competition,” he said.

“Aww…” she kissed him gently, smiling.

“I liked her too though,” Bud said. “And Drew Barrymore. And Mrs. Brady.” They all looked up at him. “What? She was pretty and nice!” They all chuckled but nodded, not disagreeing.

“What about you, Sloane?” Rosalee asked.

Sloane frowned. “Uh…I don’t really know…”

“No one stand out thinking back?” Hank asked, prodding gently.

“…Mr. Spock,” she said definitively.

Monroe choked a little on his tea in surprise, and the others were all equally surprised. “You watched Star Trek?” Juliette asked.

“Yeah, it was one of Oma’s favorite shows. Why?” she asked, honestly confused.

“Just…Surprising,” Nick said, smiling. “But Mr. Spock?”

She shrugged. “I always thought he’d be nice…He was smart and funny…And Oma liked him a lot too. But she liked Kirk more, said he reminded him of her husband.” They smiled a bit at that, glad for Sloane sharing so much. She looked at Hank. “What about you?”

“Ah…Well, to share a little too much, I remember sneaking looks at Victoria Secret shows and things like that. Iman, Tyra Banks…woof!” he laughed. “I used to look through fashion magazines more than my sisters, but for the wrong reasons.”

They laughed, watching Audrey Hepburn crowned queen and the movie wrap up before getting ready to go, some hitting the restroom before they leave. “Hey, Sloane, I noticed you don’t have a shower curtain yet?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to go shopping for that. And bath mats. And bed sheets. And bedding in general…and food” she said, smiling wanly. “I didn’t realize how much I needed till it kept coming up. But I’ll go tomorrow night. You guys got me started at least.”

Nick smiled and patted her shoulder. “You need anything else, just let us know.”

“Careful what you offer, Burkhardt, or I’ll be calling you asking how to put up that shower curtain.”

They smiled and headed out, Sloane sighing and smiling to herself even after they were gone.

\-----------

Margo looked at the mixture in the jar dubiously. It was a dark blue with swirls of silver inside. Setting it on her window ledge, she set her alarm for just before sunrise according to the internet.

When it went off, she groggily sat up. Looking at the jar, she froze for a second. In the night, it had turned completely silver, like liquid mercury. She took the jar, opening it and sniffing it. It smelled like blueberry muffins, which was even weirder. She hesitated but took a breath and shotgunned the liquid quickly. When she was done she licked her lips, surprised at how sweet it was. Like a fruit smoothie. Then she yawned and set the jar back down, turning over to sleep a little while longer.

When she woke up again thanks to her second alarm that she set for two hours before work, she was incredibly itchy. She groaned, wondering what she had done to herself, and scratched at her neck. She felt something shift when she did and with growing horror pulled a large piece of skin, the size of her hand. “Oh my-A little dry skin my ass!”

Quickly she got up, rushing to the bathroom. She nearly screamed when she saw herself. Her skin looked like crepe paper was pasted on, peeling and crumbling off. Even the worst sunburn she’d ever had couldn’t compare. Trying to keep calm and not break down crying, she ran a hot shower and jumped in, scrubbing her whole body with a luffa. She tried not to gag at all the bits of skin that flaked off, practically clogging the drain. But under the dry skin, she was surprised to see smooth and supple skin beneath. She even scrubbed through her hair, getting rid of more skin, and felt no irritation she usually felt from dry scalp.

Stepping out when she was finally sure she had scrubbed over every inch of her body, she looked down in surprise. She was still a big girl, but her curves seemed more perfectly round. Lumpy, dimpled cellulite was now almost airbrush smooth, her skin soft and rich looking with a hint of a natural (could it be called natural if it was magic?) sun-kissed glow.

Swallowing, she quickly wiped down the fog filled mirror with one of her hand towels. She gasped when she saw her face and nearly covered her mouth, but stopped herself so she could stare at it. The acne scars were gone completely, leaving her skin smooth and fresh looking. While still full faced, she could see a hint of her cheekbones without using any make-up, and her lips were fuller with no fillers or lipstick. Even her eyes, as strange as it was to think, seemed a lighter brown.

“Oh my God,” she breathed. It wasn’t a dramatic change like in movies. She wasn’t skinny high fashion model worthy, but without any cosmetics or spanks she was now plus-size model worthy.

“Margo? You okay?” Haylee asked. “You were in the shower a while…”

“Y-yeah! Sorry, just…needed to exfoliate.”

“Okay…Well, it’s like 8:20-something...”

“Ah, crap!” Quickly she blow dried her hair, noting it was also shinier than it was before, and got dressed. While she wasn’t any smaller, her clothes did fit better she noted. A quick bit of foundation, powder and lipstick and she was ready quicker than she was on most days.

Coming out, Haylee was having a piece of toast at the counter. When she looked up she paused and blinked, sitting up straighter. “Hey…you look especially nice today.”

Margo smiled. “Yeah, I’m feeling good.”

Haylee smiled back. “Glad to hear that. John wants to try to do dinner again tonight, are you game?”

“Definitely. Since I did overtime yesterday, I can probably take off a little early too.”

“Sweet! Text me later we can figure out where to go.”

“Will do!” Heading out, she walked much more confidently than normal, heading for the bus stop. She noted a few people glance at her and give her a once over, much more appreciatively and less judging than they did before. It was the same at work, several people taking note and complimenting her. She smiled more than usual, feeling elated for the first time in years. This was the start of change, she promised herself.

Then Emma walked in.

“Whoa, what happened to you?”

Margo smiled. “Just a really good facial.”

“Well, good for you. I wanted to say something about those bumps, but I didn’t think it was nice.”

Margo wondered what made her think it was nice to bring it up now, but didn’t let it diminish her smile. “I’ll be taking off a little early today.”

“What? Why?” Emma asked, sounding annoyed.

Margo eyed her. “Because I stayed late finishing your work yesterday.”

“You agreed to. Besides, I still have a family thing—”

“Emma, don’t even try it,” Margo snapped. “I saw your Facebook. And if you don’t want me to go over your head about lying to get time off so you could go have a spa day, you’ll keep that big mouth of yours shut and do your work. All of it. Yourself.”

Emma stared and then narrowed her eyes in anger, probably not used to being told no. “Don’t get high and mighty just because you managed to clear up your skin. I can go over your head too!”

“About what?” Margo shot back. It felt good to stand up for herself.

“I’ll say you’re treating me unfairly!”

“Considering I vouched for you thinking you had a “family problem”, I doubt that will look good. And I took screenshots, so don’t try to delete them and lie.” _That’s a lie, but here’s hoping she doesn’t call my bluff._

Emma glared more and leaned in. “You think you’re hot shit now? Well think again. Just because you look “better” doesn’t mean you’re pretty. You’re still fat, you’re still short, and you still have a face like a pug. So ugly it’s cute.”

Margo blushed and tightened her hand. Inside she felt her teenage-self flinch and try to retreat, but she’d promised herself things would be different. Standing, she walked over to her manager’s office, the door with _Elliot Baker_ written on it. She pulled out her phone and went to Emma’s timeline. Emma stared, a moment, obviously not thinking she’d do it, but then blanched and tried to grab her phone to log on. It was too late though. “Sir, I have an issue with Emma Withers. It seems she lied to me yesterday about her family situation to take time off for manicure and pedicure at a spa with friends.” She held out the phone.

He looked at it and frowned. Baker was a thin, reedy man with a big nose and no chin, and dark stringy hair. “Well, that’s disappointing—”

“Sir, I can explain!” Emma said quickly coming in. “I’ve just been overworked so I needed some time to myself-”

“With all due respect, you could wait till the weekend, given its Friday today,” Margo said. She turned back to her manager.

Emma glared and then walked to the desk, leaning over the desk in what Margo damn-well knew was a provocative manner. “Sir…Please, it was a mistake. I just didn’t want to disappoint my friends…”

Mr. Baker cleared his throat, pointedly looking away from her partially open shirt. Margo frowned at him. “Regardless, that isn’t what we expect here at Applebrook. I’m afraid there will be discipline. You, um…You are demoted back down to staff accountant level, and your raise is suspended as such.”

“But-” she started.

“Sir, she should be fired,” Margo said, folding her arms.

“Now, now, Curtis-”

“It’s Barnett now, sir.”

“Right, sorry…Barnett, I understand. But she’s young, she made a mistake. I’m willing to let her work her way up again.”

Margo narrowed her eyes. “If she was so young, I wonder how she ended up as a senior accountant so quickly…”

He blushed and then glared as he stood. “I’d be careful or you may be demoted too.”

Margo tensed a bit. “Sir, I have been a senior accountant for three years with no incidents…”

“Yes, well, I’m still your manager, and as such you shouldn’t tell me how to discipline others.”

Margo tightened her hand but breathed in. “…Sorry, sir.”

“Good. Now, both of you get to work. And I don’t want any other problems.”

Both women hesitated but then turned to leave. Outside, Emma sneered at her. “If you’d looked half as good as me, maybe you’d have gotten your way with the old lech. I’ll be able to smooth things over in a few days when he forgets all about this, pugly. Then I’ll start climbing the ladder till I can have _you_ fired.”

Margo blushed again but narrowed her eyes. “Were you like this in high school?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Emma said innocently.

“Uh huh. Well, this isn’t high school anymore,” she said, as much to herself as to Emma. “Girls like you only get so far before people stop putting up with your bullshit. One misstep and I promise you, you’ll be gone. Now go do your work, and I do mean that because if I find out you’re convincing anyone to do it for you, I’m going to keep a log and see how long they keep you around for your incompetence.”

Emma just snorted. “You should lighten up. Glaring gives you wrinkles, and you already have so little going for you obviously…”

Margo tried not to look affected and stalked back to her computer. She alerted everyone not to cover or do anything for Emma, or they would be disciplined as well. She tried not to let Emma’s words get to her. She was a dumb, childish woman she reminded herself.

And she messaged Haylee and John that she probably won’t be getting off early after all.

She paused in texting John and looked around before quickly heading to the bathroom. She’d never really been one for selfies—or photos in general—but she snapped a picture with a bright smile and looked good on her first try. And her second. And third. She managed stop after her sixth and shook her head at how engrossed she’d gotten. Choosing the best one, she attached it to the next text and after trying to think of something to say managed:

**_Margo:_ ** _At least I’m looking good today._

It felt a little full of herself, but it was true. She waited a few moments and then told herself he was probably not going to respond that quickly. She started back for her desk but then felt her phone buzz.

**_John:_ ** _Whoa!!! Looking good! Did you get your hair done or something?_

She smiled widely. Getting a response that quickly must be a good sign. John was liking her new look, and so was she.

**_Margo:_ ** _Or something. I found a great makeover place. You like?_

**_John:_ ** _Heck yeah! Looking forward to dinner with you two tonight even more now ;D_

Margo smiled even more. Emma wasn’t going to bring her down. Heck, if she played her cards right, maybe John would get the idea she wanted more from him. At least she felt like she had a chance now.

\---------------------

It was late in the afternoon when Margo finally headed home. She’d taken some time to renew her make-up and fix her hair in the mirror, knowing that John would be waiting. It was a short walk to the bus stop, one bus trip, and another quick walk over to her apartment. Opening the door, she walked in and then froze. From the front door you could see all the way into the living room.

And she could see John and Haylee on the couch. They were cuddled up and they looked like a cute, happy couple. John’s arm was even around her shoulders, his thumb gently stroking over her skin and she had her head on his shoulder. They suited each other: Handsome and Beautiful, embracing like a painting of domestic, romantic bliss.

Margo couldn’t quite take in a breath. It felt like someone had punched her in the gut. Swallowing, she almost ran, but instead slowly closed the door quietly. Swallowing, she walked a few feet down the sidewalk while pulling out her phone.

**_Margo_ : ** _Hey, I have something I need to do. I’ll be back later._

**_Haylee:_ ** _What? Why? We’ve been waiting all afternoon : <_

**_Margo:_ ** _It’s just something I need to do. I’ll see you guys later._

Putting her phone away, she went back to the bus stop and took the next one to the shopping area from the other day. Finding _Moonflower_ again, she went inside.

“Welcome, how may I-Oh. Hello again,” Angela smiled. “I almost didn’t recognize you. Margo, right?”

“Yes,” she nodded. She eyed a few more customers in the store, tense

Angela frowned. “You seem agitated again. What’s the matter? Are you not happy?”

“No. I mean, I was, but then…It’s not enough.”

Angela frowned more. “…Let’s talk over here.” She led her to the back room she’d walked into the other day, nodding to the lady at the register, and shut the door. The room was a work room of some kind, filled with herbs and flowers and vats of mixtures. And a book, Margo noted, open to what looked like a recipe. Angela quickly shut the book, keeping her hand on it. “Now, what is wrong?”

Margo looked at her, taking a breath. “This, it isn’t enough! It’s better, a-and I was happy, but now I know I’m not where I need to be. Is there more you can do?”

Angela sighed and shook her head. “I was afraid of this…”

“I’ll pay,” she said quickly.

“Payment is not the problem,” Angela said seriously. “This is the best I can do for you.”

Margo frowned back. “No, I’m almost certain you said what you gave me was a “small dose” of whatever you did.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I will make or give you a bigger one. Even if you can pay.”

“Why not?!”

“Because of this attitude! I did what I did to make you happier with how you are now. Getting rid of scars and blemishes and smoothing cellulite is one thing, but now you want to look completely different, don’t you?”

“Yes! And what’s wrong with that?”

“Everything. But most of all, then you won’t be _you_ ,” Angela said meaningfully.

“I don’t want to be me! I don’t want to be the sad, frumpy divorcee! I want to be hot! I want…I want to be wanted!” she choked a bit. “Ever since puberty I’ve had to play second fiddle to my sister even at home, and I was everyone’s favorite joke! We used to be equal, and it’s not my fault my body betrayed me! So what’s wrong with wanting to be the kind of woman everyone wants?”

Angela shook her head sadly. “I am sorry the world has made you feel that way, Margo. But I am not going to give you more help. It’s too dangerous. Any other changes you need to work for yourself the natural way or look into surgery. If you wish to buy anything else like soaps or lotion, let me know, but for now I think it better you leave and go think things over properly.”

Margo breathed rapidly and then turned, heading out the door. She marched across the shop, tempted to knock over a display of soaps, but decided not to be that petty. But then she remembered the book in the back room. That must be where the recipe was, and it must say how to make it more powerful. There was no telling if the book was always there, so she couldn’t wait till night, she needed a distraction now. Swallowing, she went outside and looked around.

And tied up nearby was a large dog, gnawing on a tennis ball. She hesitated but approached slowly. “Hey fella…wanna play fetch?” The dog woofed, tail wagging. She undid the leash from the bike rack it was knotted around and grabbed the ball. “Wanna play?” He woofed again, excitedly going for the ball. She pulled him along and took a breath before quickly opening the door and throwing the ball in, aiming for the far part of the store away from the workroom door. The dog barked and rushed inside, causing several of the customers to screamed in shock.

She saw Angela rush for the dog, which was crashing and knocking down tables trying to get the ball. A bowl of water for testing soaps and bath bombs was knocked over, causing a sudsy mess as it collided with the fizzy balls. The customers were trying to help or going out the door and Margo slipped in. She rushed to the workroom and found it thankfully unlocked. Slipping in, she grabbed the book, shoved it in her purse, and as an afterthought grabbed a bag of similar looking bath bombs just in case. Rushing back out, she shut the door and headed quickly back outside. A man was looking around near the bike rack. “Lose a dog?”

“Yeah!”

“He’s in there I think…” she pointed at the shop and the man cursed and rushed over. Margo hurried for the nearby bus stop, climbing on the one there without looking to see which line it was.

Breathing deeply, she told herself she’d return the book when she was done. She pulled the book out, fingering the leather cover. It was the size of a diary. It looked old, the pages more fabric than paper. Undoing the knot at the side, she began flipping through the pages. Her face paled slightly at what she saw—diagrams for cutting up plants, but also animals and people. She closed the book, trying to think about this rationally. Opening it again, she flipped through again more slowly, but still reading through quickly to find the right recipe, and hoping it wasn’t going to force her to do something awful.

\---------------------

Shopping was not something Sloane enjoyed really, but she had to admit getting things to decorate her own space was nice. She’d spent almost two hours at Target just on her household items alone. She had towels, a shower curtain, and a bathroom rug all in a gray blue for her bathroom, and even a little stand for her toothbrush that looked like it was made out of pewter and blue glass. The comforter set she chose was black and white and blue with scroll work going over it with solid blue sheets. She also had another cart filled with various groceries, mostly things she could make quickly on her own with minimal effort or skill. The cookbook would have to wait until she was confident enough she wasn’t going to burn the house down.  Everything was horribly overpriced for her taste but at least she had a pay check now and she knew it was better than eating out all the time.

The sun had already set and it was dark outside, but she didn’t mind. She stood skimming the _National Enquirer_ curiously. It may be a rag of a news source by most people’s standards, but the “weird” news of the world was sometimes a ping on her radar as far as wesen activity. Bigfoot, Batboy, mermaids—all real as far as wesen were concerned. It was a weird world. Though being at a Target late at night was a weird world on its own. The average soccer moms’ were gone and replaced by zombie-like college students, workaholic professionals, service workers with odd schedules and—

“Are you incompetent or just stupid?!” the man in front of her yelled at the cashier.

Assholes. Assholes apparently like to come in at night. That or Sloane was just lucky to be stuck behind this guy. He was on the tail end of middle aged, wearing a suit, and buying a coffee machine and coffee beans. Sloane rather thought he needed to tone down the caffeine if this was how he acted.

The man behind the counter—an older, grandfatherly type—blushed dark red. “I-I’m sorry, sir, but that card was declined, I can’t do anything about it. Do you have another card-”

“This card is perfectly good! Your machine is obviously a piece of junk, like you! Honestly, why would they hire some doddering old fart?! And why would you work here? Can’t cut it anywhere else?”

The old man hunched in a little more, his face burning with shame.

Sloane put the magazine down, glaring at the red faced office worker. “Hey. Settle down. The man’s doing his job, it’s not his fault the card was rejected.”

The man turned to her and sneered. “Stay out of this, sugar, and don’t worry your pretty little head. This is my business.”

Sloane’s eyebrows quirked. “Considering you’re hollering like a toddler throwing a tantrum, you’ve made it everyone in earshot’s business.”

It was the businessman’s turn to blush deeply and the cashier tried not to laugh. “I-You can’t talk to me like that!”

“Why not?” she asked blandly.

“I’m-” he started, squaring himself up to seem imposing.

“Let me stop you there,” she said, holding a finger up. He blinked in surprise, not expecting to be shot down so suddenly. “Because whatever you are about to say, my answer is the same: I don’t care. I don’t care about you, or your job, and I’m not emotionally invested in your purchase either. I just find you loud and annoying. Now get out another card or whatever you got to pay for your stuff and get out. Or just get out, no sweat of my back if you don’t get coffee. I’d consider decaff by the way, you seem a little tense.”

The man turned as red as a beet and got close to her. Sloane didn’t even flinch as he got in her face, just grimaced at having to have that close of a view of him. The cashier looked close to panicking, coming around the side and motioning quickly towards security. “Who do you think you are, you little bitch?” he ground out. “You want to get your pert little ass beaten, there are easier ways to get a spanking.”

Sloane stared at him and coolly asked. “Is that a threat?”

He smirked and reached up to push her shoulder. “Yeah. What about it?”

Taking a deep breath, Sloane reached up, grasped his hand and wrenched it hard to the side. The man gave a loud shout of surprise and pain, moving with his hand to try and alleviate the harsh pressure on his wrist. “Not too long ago, I’d settle this outside. But I have to be a professional, so right now I’d say “Congratulations, you just threatened a police detective and have won a trip downtown!”  I would handcuff you but I’m off duty, so you get the pleasure,” she wrenched his hand again a little, making him yelp. “Of my restraining you like this while I call my station. It will probably take like…half an hour? But if you’d rather deal with the security team here and let them take care of your punishment…”

“Yes!” he gasped, still frozen with pain.

“Yes what?” she demanded.

“Yes, _please, miss!_ ” he begged. “Please, I’m sorry!”

Sloane let go then and he backed away, cradling his hand. He glared and opened his mouth. “I can still arrest you if you say one more word to me, I’m sure whoever you work for or your big important position will love that.”

He closed his mouth and glared petulantly, going with the security guards when they came over. Sloane didn’t miss one of them giving her a thumbs up behind the guy’s back. Smirking, she turned back as the clerk came back behind the counter. “Thank you, miss,” he said with a grateful smile. “I’m used to dealing with irate customers, but that man was…”

“An ass,” Sloane supplied. “I’ve dealt with worse, believe it or not.” She looked at what he left on the counter. “…Y’know what, I’ll take the coffee maker too.”

The clerk smiled more as he rang everything up, subtly slipping her some coupons that put everything on sale. She smiled as she bagged it all up.

Heading out to the car, she paused when her phone went off and looked to see it was Renard calling. That worried her given it was after hours. She opened the line and held it up to her ear as she started putting her bags in the car. “Captain?”

“Not at the moment,” Renard said. “I’m calling as Sean Renard.”

“Okay…what does Sean Renard want?” she asked suspiciously.

“A favor. Off the books, I have something that needs the Grimm look over. I’ve already called Nick and Hank because I want you all working on it. Can you get to my place?”

Sloane sighed, but knew Renard wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t an emergency. “I just got done shopping; can I drop my stuff off and meet you? I got frozen stuff I’d rather not thaw right this moment…”

“Alright, but hurry.”

“Is that permission to run red lights? Cause that’s what it sounds like.”

Renard huffed a laugh. “No, don’t go speeding, we can still get tickets if the officers so choose.”

“Seriously? Does this job have any fun benefits? …On that note, I can arrest people for threatening an officer, right? Even when I’m off duty?”

“I’m a little worried why you’re asking that…” he said slowly.

“Jackass yelling at the cashier, told him to shut up, he turned on me so I literally twisted his arm and told him I’d arrest him for threatening me if he didn’t go with security,” she summed up.

He paused and she wondered if he was laughing. “Okay…it’s not generally encouraged, but I think that’s fine.”

“Good to know. See you soon.”

Sloane managed to make it home and put her things away in good time, and then back over to the address Renard texted her. Nick and Hank were waiting out front for her when she parked and walked up.  “Hey…Any idea what this is about?”

“Not a clue,” Nick admitted. “But Renard made it sound pretty bad.”

“Yeah, which probably means it is,” Hank added.

Sloane sighed and they all headed up to Renard’s apartment. He opened the door when they knocked and stood aside to let them in. “Thank you all for coming.”

“No problem,” Nick said. “But it sounds like you have one?”

“Not me personally, a friend of mine. But it sounds like it might be a bigger problem than just we can handle.” He gestured for them to follow and led them to the living room. A lovely woman stood when they entered, standing straight and proud but also a touch anxious. “This is Angela Tien, an old friend of mine.”

“Old friend?” Sloane asked. When they looked back, Angela was looking at them as well. Then suddenly she woged into a hexenbeast, hissing at them, her jaw creaking like bone on bone. Sloane was immediately ready for a fight and Nick put a hand out in front of a confused Hank.

Hank looked at both of them and then back at her. “Okay, what is she?”

“Hexenbeast,” the answered together.

Angela stayed where she was, looking at them, before woging back. “Two Grimms and a Kiersheite. You weren’t lying,” she said, glancing to Renard.

“I wouldn’t in this matter. You can all relax. Angela is a hexenbeast, but she’s not as…traditional as some. Not anymore at least.”

“He means I’m softer than most,” she supplied. “I got tired of the cut-throat business world, so I followed my passion and went into making artisan beauty products. I own _Moonflower Beauty Co._ ”

Sloane blinked and glanced at Renard. “She made the soap you gave me?”

Renard smiled. “She’s very good at what she does.”

“Okay, so she’s not like Adalind?” Hank clarified, eyeing the woman suspiciously.

“Schade? Hardly,” Angela said, crossing her arms. “Though admittedly, it was more her mother I took issue with. Bad to speak ill of the dead I know, but she was not a nice lady. Truly a wicked witch…”

“Yes, well, we’re not here to discuss Adalind,” Renard said, quickly changing the subject. “Angela has a much different problem. And she needs your help.”

“What kind of problem does she need help with?” Nick asked, still on guard.

Angela sighed, looking haggard. “I was robbed. But not of the sort of thing I can report. My book of shadows has been taken. My main spell book.”

“That does sound bad,” Hank agreed. “But if you’re not a bad witch, is it a really big problem?”

“That book isn’t just mine, it’s a family heirloom. My family’s specialty has always been body modification and alteration. There’s a lot of spells in there for that, and some of them are dark magic. Not the ones I use,” she added quickly.

“Use?” Sloane asked warily.

She shrugged. “I do put a little magic in my goods. Nothing extreme, but things like clearer skin, healthy hair, body hair minimizers. Others I utilize mood helpers—relaxation, happiness, sleep aids. Harmless things to make customers feel good. It’s truly amazing how much little nudges can help get things started.”

“But these darker spells aren’t harmless nudges,” Nick guessed.

She shook her head, her expression grave. “No. And unfortunately, I’m fairly sure what the person who stole it is after, and it is cruel and dangerous.”

“So you know who took it?” Sloane asked.

“Yes, but I don’t know much about her.” Sighing, she gestured for them all to sit together. They did so, the detectives grouping up and Angela sitting on the table in front of them. “Yesterday, this woman returned my wallet to my new brick and mortar store I’ve opened, and helped me not break some of my inventory. I’ve cultivated an aura about me that makes people comfortable talking—it came in handy when I worked business. And now, I find it easier to get what they want if they aren’t feeling awkward about it. So we talked and she wanted to be “beautiful”. As a thank you, I gave her a special bath bomb-”

“A what now?” Sloane interrupted.

“Uh…it’s a ball of dry ingredients infused with different oils and the like, packed with a bicarbonate and a weak acid. You take a bath with them and they react by fizzing and releasing the ingredients into the water. It makes the bath fizzy and smell nice and other cute effects and can be good for skin,” Angela explained.

“But this one did something else?” Nick clarified.

“Nothing extreme, but it would make her the “best version” of current self. I find beauty standards a bit unkind nowadays, so I prefer people learning to like who they are and just nudging things with nicer skin and such.”

“Did it not work?” Hank asked.

“No, it worked well. She came to my shop again earlier today and I could see that she was still herself, but just a little…touched up. However it wasn’t enough for her. I had worried about that. For some, the initial taste just invites more temptation.  A temptation that can bring out the worst in people. Similar to how people can become addicted to plastic surgery, they have this idea of how they’re “supposed” to look and they just keep going and going. In the same way, she asked for more.”

“And you refused?” Nick asked.

“Of course. Because to do more would be dangerous for her, but more than that, I would need…unwholesome ingredients.”

“Uh oh…” Hank said. “I don’t like the sound of that…”

Angela nodded. “I told her as much and I hoped that was the end and she would learn to be happy as she was, but I underestimated her. She let loose a dog in my shop! Threw a ball in and let it wreak havoc!” She sighed, trying to calm down. “It would’ve been just a funny incident if it wasn’t for what she did while I was distracted. While I was trying to get things under control, she ran into my workshop, which I stupidly left unlocked, took the book and a couple of prepared bath bombs and just waltzed out. I know it was her, she’s the only one who knew my book was there because she must’ve seen it when I tried to warn her off.”

“But can she even do these spells?” Sloane asked. “If she’s not a hexenbeast?”

She sighed, nodded with resignation. “Unfortunately, with the bath bombs I’d prepared, it’s likely she can pull off a _kind_ of magic. They’re blanks, but they have power in them. She’ll just need to infuse them according to the recipe inside, and there’s not a similar spell so she’ll likely find it by the description. The version I did was harmless. But she wants it more powerful. To do that, she’ll need to…take pieces of what she wants from other people.”

“Pardon?” Nick asked, hoping he heard wrong.

Angela leaned forward and Sloane tensed when she gently picked up her hand. “If say, I wanted skin like yours, I would need a piece of it. Or at the very least your blood or fat, if I wanted your shape. And I would mix it in with the spell and consume it. Hair, lips, eyes…the spell lets you take a hodgepodge of features and absorb them at will.” Angela tilted her head, looking at Sloane. “You have beautiful bone structure…”

“Yeah, I don’t want to know what you’d need to get that,” Sloane said, taking her hand back. “But we get the point. People are in danger so she can get magic plastic surgery.”

Angela didn’t seem phased by Sloane moving back. “Essentially, yes. Even worse, they won’t be stable with her trying to do them. She might get lucky, or things might go horribly wrong for her. I have the spells I need memorized, but I don’t want her using my book like this…I realize it’s my fault for tempting her and being stupid enough to not lock my door, but please, help me find it.”

The all glanced at one another before sighing. “Alright,” Nick said. “We need a name, a description of what she looks like now, and anything else you can remember.”

\----------------------------------

Margo breathed deeply, dressed in black with a black ski mask on and her body padded up to look even bigger. Picking up the book again, she read over the page she’d marked to make sure one more time it was right.

_The base spell requires no sacrifices to be made. It will boost your natural look, getting rid of scars and imperfections of the skin. The end result will turn the concoction dark blue. When it is ready by morning, it will be liquid silver._

_To go farther, the spell requires the sacrifice of pain. Select another who’s looks you covet, and take from them a piece of their body—their nails, their hair, their blood will give you a start. It must be taken with the pain, from the living. For a greater effect however, the greater the pain. Their flesh, their eyes, their tongue, their nose, all will give an even greater effect. The greatest however would be to carve out their heart-_

Margo slammed the book closed and breathed deeply. She didn’t want to go that far. She didn’t want to take anyone’s life or eyes or anything. Something smaller, something that would grow back, that was fine. Her phone chimed and she picked it up, noting another update from Facebook. Breathing deep again, she put the book aside and pulled the mask down and exited the car. She was parked near the club scene downtown, in a deserted parking area behind some buildings. She hoped she’d be quick and her car wouldn’t get stolen. She went to the alley near a certain club and watched the door. She swallowed, trying to calm down. She wasn’t going to kill anyone, she told herself. No one was going to die. A moment of pain, and they’d be giving it to help her. It was charity, even if it was forced charity. And she knew just who she wanted to take it from.

She straightened when she saw her quarry step out finally and Margo shrank back deeper into the shadows. Emma was alone, like she’d predicted from her Facebook posts, teetering just slightly as she walked down the street in some rather unconventional heels. She was looking on her phone, probably trying to find a ride. She’d blocked Margo on Facebook, but she’d made a dummy account easily enough and seen her plans to go out to “blow off steam because of a bitch at work”. That didn’t make her too sympathetic again.

Making her way over behind the alleyways, she managed to get on the other side without her noticing. Back through another, she waited. She could hear Emma arguing with someone on the phone about where to be picked up. It wasn’t ideal, but it was now or never. When Emma moved into view of the alley, she struck out like a flash. Her hand enclosed around a thick lock of her hair— _thank you for wearing it down, Emma—_ and Emma shouted when she was pulled back with it. “What the hell-”

She had her mouth stuffed with a gloved hand and she started flailing more, trying to scream. This was not good, she hadn't anticipated how hard it was to pull a good chunk of hair out. But she couldn’t just cut it, the book said it had to be pulled, that there needed to be pain. Gritting her teeth, Margo braced herself and yanked. _Hard._

Emma screamed in pain and seemed in shock a moment, but Margo was already letting go of her mouth and making a run for it, the lock of hair with wound around her fingers. She tried not to hear Emma crying on the ground and screaming for help. It followed her, but she reminded herself of all the times Emma had made work hell, made her life hard, all the cruel words, and booked it to her car. She put the hair in into a jar with the bath bomb already liquefied, gagging at the bit of blood and tissue at the end. Shaking it up, she watched as the hair seemed to dissolve into the mixture, turning it more of a purple color than the midnight blue. Setting it on the floorboard, she backed out of the parking spot she’d chosen and headed for home, and a bath.

\-------------------------

“So, in case we all forgot, we’re looking for a Margaret, aka Margo,” Hank said. It was early the next morning at the station, and they were getting started on the search. “No last name, and besides a description that we don’t even know is correct now, we got nothing…”

Nick sighed. “It would be helpful if Angela had her security cameras installed, but she hadn’t gotten around to it yet.”

“My question is why would she go through all this? Potentially really hurt someone like this? All to look like someone from one of those magazines?” Sloane sighed.

“Bit easy for you to say, you already look like them,” Hank pointed out.

She shrugged, not denying it. “I guess I got lucky with my face? Plus, I work out every day.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t always matter how hard you work. My cousin was always dieting and exercising, from the time she was in middle school, trying to look like that. It was tough, her body didn’t lose weight easily. She broke down a lot because none of the clothes she tried on fit her the way they looked on mannequins and models. And even when she did get thinner, she still saw herself as fat.” Hank sighed and shook his head. “We thought she was great the way she was but she had everything else telling her she wasn’t.  A handful of voices get real hard to hear over a slew of movies and magazines and even her own classmates saying she had to be thinner to be pretty. She got an eating disorder because of it, started throwing up and eating less and less. She was almost afraid of food at one point. It took her years to get over, and she nearly died once.”

Sloane frowned sympathetically, looking down a bit chagrinned at her statement. “That’s awful…”

“Yeah, Hank, I had no idea,” Nick said.

Hank sighed and shrugged. “I admit, I often go for slimmer girls. But I remember what she went through a lot…What we went through with her. So I guess I get how this lady could reach a boiling point and see this as a miracle way out of the rat race of trying to be the perfect girl. Heck, I had my awkward years where I wanted to look more like Denzel Washington. Before I realized how good I already looked,” he added with a smile.

Nick and Sloane both smiled at the lighter tone he used now. “I wanted to be taller,” Nick said. “I tried out for basketball as a freshman and got laughed at because I was five-foot nothing…then I had a growth spurt. I made varsity Junior year. I guess not everyone gets to grow out of it though…”

“What about you, Sloane? Every get made fun of?”

“All the time,” Sloane shrugged. “I was the weird quiet new girl at like 7 different schools during high school alone.”

“Wow, 7?” Nick asked in surprise.

“Yeah. Deirdre moved us around a lot, even then.”

“I remember you mentioning that,” Hank said.

“Hey, made staying out of dumb teenage drama easy,” she said. “Annoying people or bullies would get left behind, anyone tried to mess with me I could fight them and be gone later. Heck, if it weren’t for social services I’d have likely just not bothered with school.”

“Must’ve made making friends hard though,” Nick said sympathetically.

Sloane didn’t say anything for a moment but then shrugged. “I did alright without them.”

Nick frowned and then suddenly put an arm around her. “Well, you got them now like it or not.”

“What he said,” Hank said, doing the same on her other side.

“…I appreciate the thought, guys, but we’re at work and people are staring.”

“I thought you didn’t care what they thought? Is that self-confidence just an act?” Nick teased, squeezing tighter.

“Still got some teenage awkwardness?” Hank teased as well, pinching her cheek. Sloane actually blushed and then smacked them both on the arms till they let go.

“God! You guys are so weird…” They just laughed and she couldn’t help but smile slightly.

Nick sighed and then sobered. “…Back to the task at hand: This woman is desperate enough to steal a book of magic. Magic that tells her to hurt people.”

“Yeah…who knows what she’ll do if she’s cornered,” Hank said as well.

Sloane then perked up. “If she’s already gotten started, then maybe we should check for assault reports. The Hexenbeast said she’d need bits of the person, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she killed them if it’s stuff like nails and blood, so let’s try those instead of murders first. Then we can ask the victim.”

“Good point,” Nick said, a little proud of her for making the connection.

“Our little detective is growing,” Hank said, reaching for her face as if to pinch her cheek again.

Sloane backed away from his hand, giving him a flat look. “Try it and you’re gonna need a beauty potion.”

“Oh, can’t have that, this is the money maker,” Hank said with a grin. “I told you I realized my worth. And why mess with perfection?”

Nick smiled and shook his head, starting his search.

\-----------------

Margo wiped the steam away from the mirror. There was another pile of dead skin in the tub, more than before. She’d woken up in a near chrysalis of skin, and she was now quite a bit thinner. She’d have to wash her sheets and find a way to throw out the dry skin left behind. But now half her fat was magically gone, with no sagging skin or stretch marks she’d been warned of time and again when trying to lose weight fast. It made it easier to see the bone structure of her face and body. Her hair was lighter, almost blonde now, with more luster and shine. “Wow…” Glancing at the pile in the tub, she grimaced and quickly scooped it up into a bag to toss out before anyone saw.

She got ready quickly, but struggled when her clothes hanged off her now. None of her pants or jeans would stay up, and neither would her skirts. Her blouses were like deflated balloons on her frame. “Damn…” She pulled on an old dress and cinched it tight, heading back down stairs.

“Margo?” She paused near the bottom, Haylee at the table eating breakfast. She was staring at her in shock, then stood and walked over. “I…Margo, you…”

“Look good?” she said, smiling.

“I…yes, I suppose…”

Margo frowned. “You suppose?”

Haylee frowned, reaching out to pat over her waist to feel for herself. “Margo, you…how did you lose weight this quickly? It’s like ten dress sizes in one night!”

She backed away, pushing her sister’s hands off. “Like you need to know. You’re already skinny.” She still wasn’t as thin as Haylee, but only just quite it felt. A little more…She tried to push that thought away. “You don’t need any help.”

“Margo, that’s not the issue! It’s not healthy to lose that much weight all of a sudden!”

She sniffed and crossed her arms. “I’m perfectly fine, thanks. In fact, I’ve never felt better.”

Haylee frowned more. “You’ve been acting strange the last couple of days…”

“I’m fine! Why can’t you just be happy for me?” she accused.

Haylee frowned but sighed. “Okay, okay…If you’re happy, then great.”

“I am,” she said defiantly. “But I need new clothes…”

Haylee smiled, trying to smooth things over. “Well, want to go shopping together?” Margo smiled back and nodded. “Oh, but uh…Phoebe wants me to drop those pictures by her place sometime today.”

The smile quickly faded again. “Seriously?”

“Look, I know how things were between you two. But it’s been ten years, she might’ve changed.”

“Not likely,” she snorted.

“I’m not saying she became the best person in the world, but at the very least she’s trying to make a nice slideshow for the reunion—which is tomorrow—and she needs a few more. I’d like for us to have a good time, so I’d rather not burn bridges suddenly beforehand.”

“By nice slideshow, I’m pretty sure she just wants to feature cool pics of her and the people she liked and embarrassing ones of everyone else…”

“Can’t say you’re wrong, but I put any like that away. Listen, you don’t have to see her. I’ll hand over the pictures, and then we’ll go shopping. Find you a snazzy new outfit for tomorrow at least.”

“Snazzy?”

“Hey, mom’s vocabulary rubbed off on me, sue me…”

Margo sighed but then smiled. “Okay, fine.”

“Great. Let me just go get ready.” She rushed upstairs. Margo went to eat something, settling on a pop tart without heating it. She did however look at her reflection in the toaster, smiling again. She put it down when Haylee came back and they went out the door.

Haylee had the photos in an envelope, and when they got to Phoebe’s house—a decent size place in a safe enough neighborhood—she knocked on the door. Margo couldn’t deny her curiosity enough to stand back on the porch and wait. The door opened and a woman in her thirties opened it. She was fairly good looking, with black hair and green eyes, dressed for a workout. “Yes?”

“Phoebe? Hi, it’s Haylee Barnett.”

“Oh, Haylee!” She smiled and stepped out. “Nice to see you again. My, you haven’t changed a bit, aside from the hair. I remember it being pink for graduation, to spite the faculty.”

Haylee smiled a bit and held up the envelope. “I think I have a picture of that in here.”

“Oh good! I can finish that this evening for tomorrow then, and Jen wanted to make some prints to put around the room too.”

“Jennifer Gracy? Wow, I haven’t seen her in years.”

“Yeah, she’s been living in Australia, can you believe?” she laughed. “Anyway, I’m glad you were quite the photographer back then.”

“Comes in handy. Cute house by the way.”

She smiled. “Yeah, it’s my aunt’s. She out of town and my parents moved to away years ago and I moved to San Diego after college. So I got the place to myself.”

“I heard that. Um, I also heard your job didn’t work out?”

“What? Oh, no,” she laughed. “I was working an office job and that was fine, but I’m actually going back to school. Decided I really wanted to go back and do what I wanted to do, study art, work in movies as a designer.”

“That’s nice-”

Margo couldn’t help herself any longer and cleared her throat slightly. Phoebe looked over and blinked. “Oh, uh…hi?”

“Hi, Phoebe,” she said, a little smug and a little annoyed just seeing her.

“…Sorry, have we met?”

Margo frowned. “Yes we have. We had most of the same classes.”

“What?”

“It’s me. Margo.”

She shook her head, not comprehending. “Margo…?”

“ _Barnett._ I’m Haylee’s twin sister,” she ground out.

Phoebe looked at Haylee, then back at Margo. “Twin…Oh, right! Sorry, I forgot about you for a second! You were…different then.” She laughed.

Margo stared at her. “Forgot…You forgot about me? You-you made my life hell for four years and you forgot-” She started forward, feeling her rage building.

“Margo!” Haylee said, quickly grabbing her around the middle and pulling her down to the street again. Phoebe was staring at them in confusion. “We’ll, uh, see you tomorrow then.”

“Okay…” Phoebe said, looking between them like they were crazy as she closed the door.

“Let me go,” Margo said.

“No, you’re not thinking straight.”

“She forgot about me! I’m not letting her forget again!” she said, trying to fight and get back there.

“Margo, chill!” She pushed her slightly. “For God’s sake, you aren’t in high school anymore! Stop letting everything she does or says get to you!”

Margo breathed deeply but then nodded. “You’re right…sorry. Just…seeing her makes me feel so…”

“I know,” Haylee said more gently. “So let’s just go shop, have a good time, and forget about her, alright?”

Margo glanced at the house a moment before nodding slowly. “Yeah…sure.”

\-------------------------

“I gotta hit,” Nick said. They’d been searching through different assault cases reported in the last 24 hours and it was late afternoon now.  “Emma Withers was assaulted last night. Someone apparently grabbed her from behind, yanked a chunk of her hair out, and ran off after that. The hair was the only thing taken and the assailant didn’t do anything else to her.”

“Sounds promising,” Hank said. “Got an address?”

The ended up piling into the car and going to the hospital, where Emma was still after the shock of last night. Her head was bandaged up and she looked haggard. More so as they asked her questions.

“I told the police last night everything,” she said. “I didn’t see his face. It was a large guy, like fat, but short. Dressed in black, and he had a black ski mask on. After he pulled my hair out—taking a chunk of my goddamned scalp almost with it!” she added vehemently, her voice rising high enough it was nearly ultrasonic, “he let go and ran. He was probably some psycho stalker! Or one of those perverts! You police don’t keep these streets safe enough for people to walk down!”

Nick and Hank kept calm, and Nick put a hand on Sloane’s arm to keep her from saying what she obviously wanted to about that. “We understand you went through something awful, miss,” Nick said. “But we think it might be related to another case. Just a few more questions, please.”

“Oh fine,” she sighed.

“Do you know someone named “Margo”?” Hank asked.

She blinked and then frowned. “Yes…one person. My coworker-or I guess supervisor. Margo Barnett.”

Hank smiled. “And do you know where she lives? Or have her number?”

“Hell no,” she laughed, hollow and bitter. “We hate each other. She’s a busy body cow who thinks she’s smarter than everyone and doesn’t think other people should have be happy or have fun when she’s miserable. And she’s usually miserable. So I don’t associate with her, I don’t want her to bring me down.”

They sighed, Sloane pinching the bridge of her nose. “Where do you work then, we’ll ask them.”

“Applebrook Accounting,” she said. “Our manager is Mr. Baker. I do have his number. In case I ever need help. He sent those flowers when I called and told him I might not be in on Monday because of what happened.” She nodded to a nice bouquet of yellow flowers while she brought up the contact in her phone. “Why do you want to know about Margo anyway?”

“Just a line of inquiry,” Nick said. He leaned in and copied down the phone number.

“…You know, you’re pretty cute for a detective…” she said, flirty.

Nick tried not to look as uncomfortable as that was and stood. “Thank you. We’ll be in contact.” He turned to go, Sloane smirking a little as they followed.

“I don’t suppose you can get her to leave,” a nurse said quietly as they came out. “We cleared her for release this morning, but she demands we keep running tests, and harasses the nurses. We’re not a hotel or her body guards.”

Hank sighed. “Get security on her if she doesn’t leave soon.”

Nick was already dialing the number as they headed out. He sighed and mouthed voicemail at them. “Hello, this is Detective Nick Burkhardt with the Portland PD, looking for Mr. Elliot Baker. You’re not in any trouble Mr. Baker; we’re just hoping to talk with your employee, a Margo Barnett. If you can please contact me at this number as soon as possible we’d appreciate it.” He hanged up and sighed.

“Let’s go back and see if we can look up this name in the databases,” Hank said. “Can’t be too many Margaret Barnett’s in the city, right?”

\------------------------

Margo looked in the mirror, smiling to herself as she smoothed out the dress. It was more form fitting than anything she’d ever tried before, and it looked good with its deep red color. She was outside the dressing room, in the three part mirror just in front of the doorway, which was big for her because she’d usually stay in the dressing room proper the whole time.

“That looks great,” Haylee said, smiling brightly.

“Yeah…I like it. I think it’ll be good for tomorrow.”

“Definitely. You’re going to turn heads in that for sure.”

Margo smiled more. “Damn straight! I need shoes too…”

“Margo?”

Margo froze and turned around from mirrors. “…Dan?” The man near the doorway was short, rotund man with dark hair and eyes, sporting a nice beard. Nicer than she remembered. Her ex-husband had been pretty prone to just throwing things on and letting his hair get wild. Now though, his hair and his beard were well groomed and he looked put together. How dare he make an effort now?

“Dan,” Haylee said almost venomously. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh…well…Shopping …” he said hesitantly.

Margo glared and stepped down. “Well…Wish I could say it was good to see you.”

Dan flinched. “Yeah…look, I am sorry how all that turned out—”

“Save it,” Margo said, holding up a hand. Dan was surprised, flinching and blinking rapidly. It made him look like a shocked fat chicken, and suddenly Margo wondered what she ever saw in him. “You had an affair and left me for another woman.”

He bowed his head, not denying it and obviously shamed. “I know. That was…that was wrong of me, but I wasn’t happy, Maggie-”

“You do not get to call me that,” Margo said, anger rising. “You think I was happy?”

“No,” he said honestly, desperately. “You were never happy. Nothing I did ever made you happy. Nothing I said ever made you happy. I told you I thought you were beautiful as you were but you kept pushing yourself to lose weight and said that I was lying. And then you’d say I could stand to lose weight with you, and then you’d get pissed when I lost weight and you didn’t, and we’d both stress eat and just start over again…” He breathed a little, obviously exhausted pushing all that out.

Margo frowned, not looking sympathetic. “Well it wasn’t fair when I worked harder than you. And you still haven’t changed, aside from learning how to use a beard trimmer apparently.”

He sighed “But I guess you got the hang of it,” he said finally.

“Yeah, I did,” she said, standing up straighter. “Sad you missed out now that I’m looking this good?”

Dan frowned more. “Margo, I honestly thought you were beautiful before…I thought you were beautiful and amazing. And seeing how you took care of your mother and still worked so hard, I thought you were a superwoman. I wanted to be more like you. I didn’t cheat because I wasn’t happy with how you looked, I just…I felt like you were only with me because I loved you, but you didn’t love me…That you didn’t think I was good enough.”

Haylee blinked, surprised at how heartfelt and sad that sounded. He looked like he was

Margo set her jaw. “I did love you. I just wanted you to be the best version of yourself. But I don’t care anymore. And I’m supposed to feel sorry that you made yourself feel better by dating another woman? Where is she? This girl you couldn’t resist? Some skinny bimbo who thought you were easy pickings? Did she already drop you?”

“Pardon me…” Dan blanched and looked beside him. A plump, well dressed woman stepped over. She was dark skinned, with a close cropped hair, and the white top and sunflower skirt she wore were impeccably tailored to the large curves of her body. She was similarly built to Margo before she stared her transformation, but carried her curves like armor or a regal gown. A way Margo never did, never even tried because it always just felt like an anchor. She regarded her coldly and Margo actually felt some part of her shrink back because it was a righteous coldness. “I’m Femi…Dan’s girlfriend. You must be Margo.”

Margo blinked. “I…You’re…”

“Fat? Yeah. Sorry to ruin your fantasy I guess,” she said. She reached over and took Dan’s hand. “Look, you put Dan through enough. Just stop. He came over to say sorry, because he still felt guilty. But I’m not gonna let you rehash all this toxic BS.”

“I-I’ve put him through enough? I’m-” she started, moving forward off the platform.

“Insecure,” she said simply, making Margo pause at how quickly she was smacked down from her high horse. “Which is one thing, but taking it out on him is another. We weren’t right to start things while he was married, but listening to you, I really get it now why he was so miserable when he was with you.” Margo felt herself flinch and looked at Dan. Dan looked down but didn’t deny it. Femi squeezed his hand. “Dan’s an amazing boyfriend. He’s kind, and caring, and he makes me feel beautiful every day. If he couldn’t do that for you, or get through to you, I’m real sorry. But I’m not letting you bring him down again. Not when I had to work to bring him back up and make him understand he is worth it.”

Margo breathed deeply and looked at her ex-husband. “…Well, I’m happier too. I’m finally on my way to where I want to be, and it’s no thanks to you. Maybe I did settle for you, but I’m not settling now like you are! Hiding behind nice clothes doesn’t change anything.”

Dan squeezed Femi’s hand and glared, apparently deciding it was enough. “I knew you wouldn’t listen. I’ll just say it again, I’m sorry I cheated, but that was my mistake. I should’ve just told you I was unhappy the moment I felt it and separated then. But I’m not sorry I left you. And I’m leaving again.” He turned and walked away, holding Femi’s hand still.

“…Margo…” Haylee started.

“Don’t.” She breathed deeply and looked at herself in the mirror again. “Dan is an ass. Maybe he didn’t leave me for someone skinnier or prettier than me, but I settled for him because I thought he was as good as I could get.”

Haylee frowned. “Margo, you don’t mean that…”

“Yes, I do! Mom never liked Dan, and I get why now. He wasn’t the support I needed, the man I deserved, just like she said. But no more settling. I’m going to get what I want.”

“…Okay…I’m glad you’re more confident, but don’t go overboard, okay?” Haylee said slowly.

Margo looked at her sister’s concerned expression and sighed. “I won’t. Look, let me change and get the dress. I’ll meet you at checkout and we’ll go to the shoe place?”

Haylee nodded and walked off slowly, still worried.

Margo watched her go and then went over to the wrack with the dress she was wearing. Looking through, she selected a dress another six sizes smaller, and then grabbed another couple in that size.

\------------------------

“Someone stole this hexenbeast’s spell book?” Rosalee asked, aghast. They’d all gathered for a planning meeting, this time at Sloane’s house. Sloane had gotten Pizza for them since she hadn’t been to the store yet, and had begrudgingly ordered a vegan one for Monroe when Rosalee gave her a look. “And they’re using it?”

“Trying to,” Hank said, taking another bite of pepperoni and mushroom.

“So humans can use spells?” Juliette asked.

“Not easily,” Rosalee sighed. “My books move into that territory, usually in how to counteract them. But some magics can’t be reversed with herbs. And some spells and potions need whatever energy Hexenbeasts and Zauberbeasts are able to produce to have any effect at all.”

“Angela said she’d charged those bath bombs, they were just blanks that needed to be loaded up,” Nick said.

“That would probably do it,” Monroe said. “So any progress?”

“We think so. We got a name, Margo Barnett. But we can’t seem to find much on her. No past history, heck, we can’t find a driver’s license!” Sloane huffed.

“That is very weird…” Rosalee agreed.

“Our records go back about three years. We’ve put in a request for the longer records, but it’ll take some time. Until then, we got someone desperate to be pretty hunting down women…” Hank said.

“You’re not allowed to leave the house or the shop,” Monroe said to Rosalee. She smiled and rolled her eyes. “But, you know, it’s pretty sickening what beauty standards have done to some women,” Monroe said sagely.

“Do Blutbad follow such standards?” Sloane asked dubiously. “I’d think it hard with all the blood.” Monroe frowned at her and Rosalee pinched her. “Okay okay, sorry…But hey, plenty of women don’t assault others because of their low self-esteem.”

“Yeah, that is usually a guy thing,” Juliette said. The men looked mock affronted but Sloane and Rosalee both raised their drinks in a toast, mumbling “amen”.

“I’d say ouch, but then I can’t say you’re wrong…” Nick sighed.

“How off the deep end do you think she is?” Rosalee asked.

“Hard to say without talking to her. We still need to hear from her boss.”

“He’s being a bit slow to call us back…” Sloane said, a bit suspicious.

“And there’s only so much we can do since it’s not an official investigation,” Hank sighed.

Rosalee frowned. “I don’t think there’s much we can help you with this time,” she said regretfully.

“Yeah. I mean, she’s human for all we know, and reversing whatever she’s doing isn’t going to help,” Monroe said.

“Stopping it is what we need to do,” Sloane sighed.

\------------------------

Angela took a breath as she stirred the small cauldron on the floor of her kitchen. It wasn’t burning, fire wasn’t needed for this spell, usually she was boiling ingredients for soaps or lotions, but not that night. This was one of the first spells she’d been taught as a child, a scrying spell to locate someone. She remembered her mother hiding her dog somewhere and making her scry the location. It was no wonder she normally had trust issues, and now that felt all the more harsh after trying to help Margo and being betrayed. What was worse was without a piece of her intended target-hair, skin, blood, what have you-she couldn’t get a set target. Instead she had to do a general spell that could show her the past, present or future what-ifs, concentrating on what she did know about her.

Looking into the cauldron, she woged and focused her gaze, concentrating on what she could remember of Margo.

When the swirling water turned blood red, she woged back with a gasp and a sick feeling in her stomach.

\-----------------------

Getting into the house Phoebe was staying in was easier than Margo thought it would be. She’d come prepared with a crowbar, glass cutter, all kinds of things. But none of that was necessary. After looking up common ways homes were burgled, she’d on the off chance gone to the side gate and found it unlocked. She’d then gone to the back doors, French doors with lots of glass. She’d then just on the off chance started lifting up flower pots stacked near the door and lo and behold, a key was hidden underneath. Margo wanted to laugh at how stupid that was, whether it was Phoebe or her aunt that did it.

Margo had also looked up Phoebe online. She liked social media. No kids, which was good. No pets either. Boyfriend back in San Diego, but couldn’t come with her. Aunt was out for another week and she had no pets or anyone else in the house either. Phoebe was all alone for the night, and Margo counted on that.

Getting to the bedroom, Margo saw her asleep in the bed, turned on her side. It was impeccably decorated in blues and greens, oddly calming for what she had in mind. Breathing deeply, Margo moved towards the bed. She eyed her hair, but that wasn’t enough this time. Pulling out the handcuffs she brought, she took a breath and moved to grab her.

Phoebe jolted awake at the touch and screamed, flailing a little. She was trying to beat her off, her hands falling over Margo’s face and shoulders, but she managed to finally get her hands together behind her back and clicked the handcuffs around them, tightening them quickly. Her legs shot out, trying to buck her off. Then Margo fell to the floor and one foot swiped her mask up. Phoebe was move across the bed as best she could with her hands tied, breathing hard. “Who the hell are you?! You…You’re a woman?”

Margo growled and then pulled the mask off. “Still don’t remember me?”

“…Margo?” she asked, stunned a moment. “W…what the hell are you doing?” She struggled to get her hands out and found she couldn’t. “You-get these off me, you bitch!”

“Sorry, but I kind of need something from you.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, affronted. “This is how you ask for favors?”

“No, this is how I take what’s coming to me,” she growled. “Think of it as repayment for making my life hell when we were teens.”

“Made your life hell? You mean the pranks?” she asked, laughing a little.

“Pranks!? You nearly ruined my life, more than once! I went to college out of state to avoid you and everyone else because of how they treated me, and you were at the center!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” she bit out. “We played pranks on a lot of people.”

“They weren’t funny,” Margo growled. “You would call me names, start rumors about me—you used to steal my clothes after gym and hide them! In the rafters, in toilets, outside hanging from the trees!”

Phoebe frowned but then sighed. “Okay, yes, we went overboard a couple of times. We were dumb kids. Sorry.”

Margo glared. “If you actually sounded sorry, I might believe you. Are you still too stupid to realize you’re not in control here? That everything you did lead to this moment, making me do this to you?”

Phoebe glared back and then straightened, giving her a look Margo remembered from high school well. The haughty look of condemnation and superiority. “You know, I bet you think we targeted you because you were fat, right?” Margo glared. “Well, that wasn’t it. Not all of it anyway, it was just the easiest thing to tease you about. The fact is, you loved playing the victim.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh please. Every time we so much as looked at you funny, you went to the teachers or your sister or John Zakey and did your whole “Oh, woe is me, please save me and make me feel special” routine. You kept trying to get us in trouble, even when we didn’t do anything. And then you’d do something to piss us off again, and we’d do something to you because we were dumb teenagers. But I moved on. You apparently still live in the past, and I’m betting it’s so you don’t have to admit it’s your personality that causes all your problems and not your looks.”

Margo stared and then tightened her fist. “You were still horrible! To me, and to Haylee and John!”

“I’m aware,” she said blandly. “You know what the sad thing is? We liked your sister. Haylee was so cool, and cute, and nice. And so was John. The times I got to talk to them alone, they were great! Yeah, we invited them places without you, and they would come sometimes. Probably sick of you too.”

Margo got quiet a moment before breathing deep. Phoebe was still trying to get out of the handcuffs; Margo could see her hands working behind her. Likely she was talking to buy herself time. “I’m done talking about this. You’re going to give me what I want.”

Phoebe looked uneasy. “What’s that?”

“You’re beauty.”

Phoebe paused, blinking in confusion. “…I’m flattered, but no?” She laughed, obviously thinking Margo was off the deep end.

“You don’t get a choice.” Margo reached into the bag she brought and pulled out a large knife.

Phoebe paled but a weaker laugh bubbled up as she tried to move further back on her bed. “What…? C’mon, Margo. You puked doing the frog dissection; I know you aren’t going to use that on me.”

“Maybe I’m not the same as I was back them after all,” she said. She moved forward and Phoebe screamed again, trying to roll off and away, but Margo dove after her, the knife raised and ready.

\---------------------

The next day, they spent most of the morning combing back through records without much luck. They also had to finish work on the last case they were on, taking turns working through them. It was the same after lunch as well, until Renard called them in.

“You wanted to see us, sir?” Hank asked, closing the door behind him when they were all in.

“Just hoping for an update on the unofficial case,” Renard said, eyeing them.

“We got nothing,” Sloane said with a sigh.

Nick rolled his eyes. “What she means is we’ve got a name. Margo Barnett. However, we can’t seem to find current records for a woman that matches the description Angela gave us by that name. We’re still waiting for the broader search to turn anything up.”

“I see,” Renard sighed.

“I was hoping for better news.” They all jumped slightly, except for Sloane, turning to see Angela in the corner of the room.

“…Didn’t see you there,” Hank said.

“I didn’t want to be seen. Though Detective Larson glanced my way I’m fairly sure…”

“I know that trick,” Sloane said idly.

Angela smiled then walked forward. “I’ve been trying to do a bit on my end. Unfortunately it’s hard without something of hers to track her down. However, I did have a vision…”

“Was it us tracking her down and no one else was hurt?” Hank asked hopefully.

She shook her head. “Unfortunately not. It was a vision wasn’t much but I know the main warning: blood.”

“Oh…that’s great,” Nick sighed.

“If I had something of hers, I could do a better reading.”

“If we had something of hers, we’d probably know who she is,” Sloane pointed out.

“True,” she sighed.

It was then Nick’s phone rang. He pulled it out and check them number. “Well, we might be in luck, this is her supposed manager.” He opened the call and held it to his ear. “This is Detective Burkhardt.”

“Yes, hello. This is Elliot Baker,” the man on the phone said, sounding a bit nervous. “I, uh, apologize for not calling back sooner, the family and I were out for the day and I had my phone on silent.”

“Its fine, Mr. Baker. You heard my message?”

“Yes, I did. But…I confess, I’m not sure what you need with Margo. She’s not someone I would ever imagine causing trouble.”

“It’s just a line of inquiry in a case.”

“…Is it something to do with what happened to Emma?” he asked, sounding worried.

Nick felt like he was making connections and leaned against the counter to take the weight off his feet to listen. “We’re not sure yet, but why do you ask that?”

He sighed. “Margo and Emma don’t get along very well. It came to a bit of a head yesterday, Emma had lied about a family emergency to take off work and Margo outed her because she got stuck with her work.”

Nick frowned, thinking on that. “Usually then wouldn’t Emma want revenge on Margo?”

“Yes, that’s true…” he amended.

“Look, we’re working another case and the witness mentioned a Margo that fit her description. Would you say she’s a larger woman with dark brown hair, brown eyes, and short stature?”

“Yes, that is true…though she looked a little different yesterday. Apparently she got a nice facial and a make-over.”

Nick smiled despite himself. “Well, we really need to talk to Ms. Barnett but we’re having trouble getting in contact with her. We can’t seem to find a proper phone number.”

“Really? That’s odd…Oh!” he said, sounding like he had an epiphany. “You know what, I bet it’s still in her old name.”

“Old name?” he asked in confusion, glancing at Sloane and Hank. Sloane was making notes based on what she could hear of the conversation.

“Yes. She got divorced recently, and while she says she’s going by her maiden name again, I think she hasn’t officially changed it yet. I keep slipping with it too.”

“What is it? Her married name?” he asked eagerly.

“Curtis. Margaret Curtis. I can give you her phone and address too, if you need it for the investigation.”

“That would be fantastic, thank you,” he said honestly. Nick had Sloane copy them down and bid Mr. Baker goodbye when they were done. “Well, that’s one step done.”

“Here’s hoping the next step goes more quickly,” Sloane said.

“If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know,” Angela said. “If you can get me a sample of her, I can use a spell to spy on her and let you know what she’s doing.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Nick nodded, nodding to Renard as well as they headed back out to their computers to look Margo Curtis _ne_ Barnett’s address immediately.

\-------------------------------

“Phoebe?” Jennifer called. “Phoebe, are you in there?” She knocked on the door again and huffed in frustration. “Phoebe, c’mon! It’s already 3:00! We need to go start making sure things are getting done! I’ve got the prints in my car and everything!” There was still no answer so she huffed and walked around back to where Phoebe had put an extra key. Jennifer had told her that was a bad idea given this was just a house she was renting, but Phoebe didn’t want to end up locked out after a bad experience in the past that resulted in the police being called. But when she lifted up the pots, there was no key.

That gave her a bad feeling. Straightening, she hesitantly reached out and pushed down on the handle. The door swung inwards.

Jennifer frowned, not liking how horror movie this was, but moved cautiously forward. “Phoebe? Pheebs? You here? I know you’re here, your car is outside. The back door was unlocked too, that’s so stupid you now? Just…answer me already!” Jennifer swallowed and moved inside. Nothing seemed too out of place in the kitchen just off the back door. Phoebe’s Aunt had sleek, modern tastes, all clean whites and greys. It’s what made the red on counter stick out more. Jennifer looked closely, hoping it was jam or tomato sauce, but it was too dark—too red.

“Phoebe!?” She turned, looking around desperately before moving towards the back. There was another smear of red on the bedroom door and she swallowed. Shaking, she pushed the door open slowly. The first thing she saw was a foot…

And then she screamed.

\-------------------------------

It was a nice townhouse in a quaint neighborhood, nothing out of the ordinary. Hank knocked on the door and a tall woman with blonde hair answered. She heavily resembled the woman in the driver’s license photo despite the disparity in size, but there was something that didn’t feel quite like she was the one. “Uh…hello?”

“Hi. We’re looking for Margo Barnett?”

“Or Curtis,” Sloane added.

“Um, I’m her sister, Haylee…can I ask what this is about?”

They all flashed their badges. “We have some questions for her, regarding a possible robbery she was witness to,” Nick said.

“Robbery?” she asked in confusion. “She didn’t mention anything about…Come on in. She’s just taking a shower, she’ll be done soon.” She stood aside, letting them come in.

“Do you live here too?” Sloane asked, glancing around. Nothing seemed odd or out of place.

“No, I live in New York. I’m down for our high school reunion. Which is actually tonight. And I have to help get things ready last minute now.”

“Why’s that?” Hank asked.

Haylee sighed. “The girl that was supposed to be helping get things in order, Phoebe, had a sudden emergency and can’t make it. Emailed everyone about it at like 2 last night. So now everyone’s running around trying to track down what she was working on and I have to finish a slide show. She sent over what she had super late last night asking to finish it, but it was pretty bad…Kind of surprising for her to be honest. Margo’s not really into that sort of stuff so she’s going to go ahead and go probably.”

Sloane tiled her head. “It’s her reunion too?”

“We’re twins,” Haylee said.

“Ah, that makes more sense. But Ms.…”

“Barnett. I never married,” she said.

“Well, Miss Barnett. I don’t suppose you know anything about your sister being out late or witnessing anything strange?” Sloane said.

Haylee shook her head slowly. “Not really…well…”

“Well what?” Nick asked, turning his attention completely to her.

She hesitated but sighed. “She’s been acting strange lately. She was always kind of…dramatic, but it’s worse since the divorce. I hoped she’d feel better having company, but…”

“Not really?”

“No. We’ve always had a complicated relationship. Well, not always, just since puberty. She’s always held things in, but I think she resented me for a few things.  Especially our mom... She had thyroid cancer. Got diagnosed Margo’s senior year of college.”

“I’m sorry,” Hank said honestly. He paused before pointing to the picture of a beautiful woman, her hair in a very eighties style with a lot of corkscrew curls, thick blue eye makeup, but still glamorous with her hand near her face to show off a ring on it.

“Yeah, that’s mom,” she said with smile.

“Your mom was Diana Barnett?” he said, surprised.

Haylee smiled. “You recognize her?”

“I followed fashion a bit when I was younger,” he said wanly. Sloane remembered him talking about stealing his sister’s fashion magazines and pointedly looked away to avoid saying anything. “Your mom was definitely one of the ones I noticed. But then she suddenly stopped appearing.”

“Pregnancy will do that,” Haylee sighed. “Not sure who our dad is, but when she got pregnant with me and Margo she had to stop modeling, as much as she didn’t want to. Never really got back to where she was before…” she said quietly, seeming a bit resigned.

“And she got sick?” Nick asked sympathetically.

She nodded and sighed. “It was rough. Margo was the one to come back and take care of her. I took a year off before college, and Margo went right in, so she was finished first. I offered to put things on hold, but mom wanted me to finish. She passed away just after my graduation. It was an even rougher time for both of us. I moved to New York to try and be a writer. Try being the key word…”

 “But you say she’s been through a lot recently too?” Nick pressed lightly. “A divorce?”

“Yeah. It’s not a secret if you look at her social media, he, uh…left her for another woman.”

“Ouch,” Hank said.

“Yeah. She was kind of in a rut for a bit. Now though…well…”

“Well what?”

She hesitated, looking unsure if she should voice her concerns. “The last few days she’s been…changing. Physically, I mean. Like freaky fast.” She looked down, her brow pinched. “I’m worried for her…She lost whole dress sizes in one night, more than one. But looks…okay? I mean, she looks great, but…It’s not normal. I did a lot of research on women’s health for my last article, and this is honestly strange and kind of terrifying. She’s got no excess skin, she’s not crashing...I’m relieved, but it’s not normal.”

Nick glanced at the others and then back to Haylee. “What about odd times to be out?”

Haylee bit her lip and sighed. “I…Last night and the night before, I heard her leave and come in late. And weirdly, I always here the bath running just after she gets in…But last night, I don’t think she got back till almost four. I think I heard her alarm go off near sunrise, but as far as I know she’s been asleep all day till she woke up to shower.” As if on que the shower upstairs stopped. “I should warn her you’re here, I’ll be right back.” She headed up the stairs.

“…Sounds like we have our thief.”

“Yeah. But if she assaulted Emma Friday night, what was she doing last night?” Nick asked, on edge now.

Haylee came back down. “She’ll be down in a moment. Can I make you guys some tea? Coffee?”

“I could go for some tea if you don’t mind,” Sloane said. “But first, if it’s not too much trouble, could I use the restroom?”

“Of course. There’s a half bath just down the hall here.”

“Thanks.” She waited till Haylee was heading for the kitchen before she nodded to the boys and stealthily made her way up the stairs instead. The door to the bathroom up there was wide open and letting steam dissipate with the fan on. One bedroom was open—the guest room where Haylee was staying if she had to guess—and the other was shut. She faintly heard movement inside, and figured that’s where Margo was at the moment. Moving silently down, she went into the bathroom. It was steamy, but she could tell something strange had happened. In the tub was a massive amount of dead skin, enough that Sloane almost gagged. She likely could’ve made a small child if she wanted out of that much tissue. So that confirmed to her that Margo was the one using magic means to alter her appearance.

Looking around through the cabinet and even in the toilet tank though, she didn’t see any other evidence. The book wasn’t there, and neither were the bath bombs. _Damn…_ Looking at the pile of skin, she grimaced before reaching into her pocket and pulling out an evidence bag and a pair of gloves she’d learned to keep on her after a couple of cases. She picked up a small handful of skin in her gloved hand and slipped it into the bag, putting the gloves inside too before sealing it and putting it in her pocket.

She stepped out, about to go back downstairs, when she heard a voice in the closed bedroom. Moving closer, she closed her eyes and focused her hearing. “…Hey John?” a feminine voice asked, sweet and perky sounding. Sloane knew that tone, it was the one some women used around people they were trying to flirt with. She’d imitated it fairly often. “Yeah, sorry, work was horrible this week. But I’m excited to see you at the reunion! Especially getting you to myself after Haylee got to spend time with you. …No, she’s still busy,” she said, her voice growing a little strained. Sloane arched her brow. “It’ll just be the two of us; she’ll meet us at the reunion. …Okay, great! See you soon. I promise you won’t believe your eyes when you see me.”

Sloane heard her moving around again and so turned to quietly go back down the stairs. She saw that Haylee was still in the kitchen and quickly made her way back over to Nick and Hank. “Definitely her.”

“What makes you so sure?” Hank asked hesitantly.

“Huge pile of dead skin in the tub. By that I mean it’s like she shed her skin six times over, as if she was a Russian nesting doll.”

“Gross,” Nick said, wrinkling his nose.

“Yeah, even better, I have some in my pocket for the hexenbeast.” Nick and Hank both backed up slightly and she rolled her eyes. “No book or bombs in there though. They’re probably in her bedroom.”

“Keep it close and secret,” Hank sighed.

“Yeah. I listened in on a phone call she was making in there though. She’s meeting someone at the reunion. Someone named John. From the sound of it I think she likes this guy a lot.”

“Might be good to follow them,” Nick nodded.

“What was that?” Haylee was walking over with five mugs of tea on a tray.

“Nothing. Thank you.” Hank took his, blowing on it and taking a sip. Nick and Sloane took theirs as well. Haylee set the tray on the table, taking one of the remaining mugs.

“…Is my sister in trouble?” she asked slowly.

The detectives looked at one another then back at her. “We don’t know exactly,” Sloane said honestly. “But her name has come up a couple of places in two investigations we believe to be related, so we just want to ask her a couple of questions.”

“Okay…I know she can be difficult sometimes, but she’s a good person. She…” Haylee looked up and her eyes widened, the mug of tea slipping from her fingers and crashing to the floor.

 “Hey, what the heck?” Hank asked, backing away from the hot tea splashing on his pants. Haylee was still gaping behind them so they turned to look.

Margo was descending the stairs, dressed in a figure flattering dress in oranges and reds that showed an hour glass figure most models would die for. Her hair was blonde, but looked naturally so rather than dyed. And as she got closer, her eyes looked blue rather than brown. She looked absolutely nothing like her DMV photo. She smiled, her lips already red with lipstick. “Sorry to keep you waiting…”

“M…Margo?” Haylee asked, looking her up and down. “I…you’re even thinner than yesterday.”

“I know,” she smiled more. “I’m now a size 4!” She smoothed down the dress with a smile.

“Uh…well, congrats,” Hank said. Sloane had a feeling she would probably have been his type under different circumstances, and hoped that using hexenbeast curses was a deal breaker for him.

“Thank you. Oh geeze, Haylee! You broke a mug?” she said, sounding annoyed.

“I, sorry-” Haylee shook her head, kneeling and grabbing the pieces quickly. Margo didn’t move to help her, frowning instead.

“It’s okay, are you alright?” Nick asked, kneeling down to help.

“Yes, sorry, just…” her eyes flicked to Margo. “Surprised…” She carried the pieces to a nearby trashcan, bringing it over to pick up the rest and grabbing the roll of paper towels as well. “I got this.”

Nick nodded and stood again, turning to Margo with the others.

Margo straightened at their attention, smiling. “So, you all are detectives? What’s this about?”

Sloane noted she clasped her hands together in front of her, and it made her look uncomfortable, but she kept that nice peaceable smile on her face. She had a feeling why they were there. “We’re looking into a robbery at a small shop called _Moonflower Beauty Co._ We were told you might be a witness as you were nearby.”

“Me? No, I’m afraid not. I don’t know anything about a theft.”

“Really?” Nick asked, not believing her sweet-as-pie tone for a moment.

Her smile twitched but she shrugged. “No.”

“Alright…We are also inquiring about an assault on one of your coworkers, Emma Withers.”

“Oh, I heard! It’s awful. But I’m afraid I don’t know much about that. I wasn’t out that night, and I’m not one for the club scene.”

Hank arched his brow. “How’d you know it happened at a club?”

Margo fidgeted with her fingers, but smiled dazzlingly. “Oh, well, Emma posts everything on social media. I just sort of figured because she said she’d be going out that night…”

“I see…So you can’t shed light on either incident?”

“No, I’m afraid not. I don’t know anything about them. Was there anything else?” she asked slowly, looking between all of them. Sloane frowned. She was worried about something other than the two incidents they’d asked about.

“No, not at the moment,” Nick said slowly. “If you do think of anything, give us a call.” He handed her his card.

“Of course. But if you’ll excuse me, I’m about to head out.”

“Right, high school reunion?” Hank said. “Hope it goes well.”

“I’m certain it will.”

They all felt a little uneasy at the way she said that, but nodded and turned to go.

“…We all agree she’s lying right?” Hank asked once they were outside the door.

“Oh yeah.”

“Obviously. I’m tempted to make her eat that pile of skin in her bathroom,” Sloane said.

Hank grimaced at the thought. “Gross. But yeah, we gotta figure out how to nail her.”

“She’s done something else,” Nick said with a frown.

Sloane nodded. “If she had another ‘miraculous change’, she probably has another victim somewhere…”

“I’ll go back and do some searching. You two should follow her if she’s going to meet someone,” Hank said.

“If that’s the case, here,” she took out the bag of skin and offered it to him. “Give this to the hexenbeast and see if she can do something worthwhile with it.”

Hank wrinkled his nose, pinching the bag between his fingers. “I’m not taking any more extracurricular cases for Renard in the future…”

\--------------------

Haylee watched her sister admiring herself in the mirror in the hall while she got her shoes on. “…Margo…what have you done to yourself?”

Margo looked back at her and frowned. “What do you mean? I’m finally how I want to be.”

“You shouldn’t be able to change this much in three days! This can’t be healthy!” she said almost desperately.

Margo turned fully, glaring. “Healthy? I’m the weight everyone always pushed me, for my looks and supposedly my health. Mom was always pushing me to diet, now I’m finally the size she wanted. Heck, I’m prettier than here now, I wish she was here to see it. So I’m doing great.”

“You’re not! Margo, I know you wanted to lose weight, but whatever you’ve done can’t be good-”

“I’M FINE!!” she yelled, startling her sister. Margo was breathing hard from anger and stepped forward. “You…you’re just jealous. You’ve been the pretty one for years and finally I’m on even ground again for the first time since we were in middle school —no, scratch that, I’m prettier than you _and_ mom—and you can’t stand it.”

Haylee looked hurt a moment before stepping up as well and setting her hands on Margo’s shoulders.  “Margo…You’re my sister. I want you to be happy. I love you no matter what, whether you’re thin or fat, tall or short. Being worried about you isn’t about how you look; it’s just how fast it came on. I think you’re awesome no matter what. I’m always grateful you took care of mom, and I’m envious how successful you are here.”

Margo blinked. “Envious? Of me?”

“Yes. I’m barely cutting it as a writer. I have to live with four roommates in a studio apartment! But you’ve got a good job and a place of your own and a life. You got to spend time with mom…I was jealous of that. I didn’t get to see her much before she died, and I put all that on you, I’m sorry. But I’m scared I’ll lose you too if this is hurting your body somehow.”

Margo was surprised, feeling a flinch of something in her before shaking her head. “Well, that’s nice, but that’s you. Now everyone else will shut up. Better yet, everyone will be fawning over me the way they always did for other girls. For you.”

Her sister frowned again. “And will that make you happy? That you had to change this much to get their approval?”

Margo flinched again but just tilted her head up and shrugged away from Haylee’s hands. “I’m happy.”

Haylee sighed. “I don’t want to fight…”

“Then stop trying to rain on my parade,” Margo snapped. She grabbed her purse from a nearby table. “I’m going now. Finish the slideshow or whatever and John and I will see you at the reunion. Better yet, take your time.”

Haylee frowned and sighed as she walked off, going to sit. It didn’t really occur to her she’d never told Margo about having to finish the slide show since she’d been asleep so long. At least not until she was gone and Haylee felt a small bit of dread in her stomach that she didn’t want to name.

\----------

Sloane and Nick were following Margo as inconspicuously as possible. Nick tailed her car expertly, but then she got out and started walking wherever she was going. That left them going on foot as well, keeping her insight but being as casual as possible. Wherever she was going through, she was too focused to notice she was being followed. It was getting late as well, the sun starting to go down though it was still above the horizon.

She then headed into a hotel, the banner above the entrance saying “Welcome Mardale Class of ‘02”. Lots of people were milling about. Many were wearing what must’ve been the school colors in blue and gold. It made Margo stand out in the red dress she was wearing all the more.

“Wanna see what a high school reunion looks like?” Nick asked.

“I’m game,” Sloane said, following him up to the door. They kept Margo in sight as she walked through the crowd. She seemed to be looking for someone.

“Hey there,” a man said. “Who are you? Someone’s date? Who’s the lucky guy?”

Margo glanced at him and sneered. “Sorry, Bobby, I’m not interested.”

“Huh? Wait, who-” She walked off before he could ask. A few more tried to make small talk, and a few girls looked at her curiously and enviously and Margo smiled to herself. She always wanted to be that kind of woman, the kind that could grab attention and make people admire her just at a glance. But there was another reason she was there, she just had to find it.

Nick and Sloane did their best to keep her in sight, milling around. The same guy that had tried to hit on Margo smiled at Sloane. “Hey there. I don’t think I remember you-”

“Tonight’s not your night, keep walking,” Sloane said tersely.

“Geeze, everyone’s testy,” he muttered, walking off.

Nick tried not to smile, watching Margo mill around the room. “She’s looking for someone…”

“I get that feeling too…hopefully it’s not another victim,” Sloane said.

They looked up when someone took the stage at the end of the room, going up to the mic. It was a girl who looked visibly upset, wiping at mascara. “E-excuse me, could I have everyone’s attention please? Please?” The chatter died down and they all looked towards her. “I’ve, um…I’ve just been informed of some tragic news. Phoebe Lafayette, who you all must remember or at least knew was helping set this reunion up with the planning committee, was…was found dead earlier today.” Everyone looked shocked, glancing at one another and murmuring. “We were worried when she didn’t show up and some of us went to check on her. I-I don’t know much, just that she was found dead in the house she was staying in. We’re going to hold an impromptu memorial soon for her and a few other members of our class that passed away since graduation, if you can join us outside in half an hour.”

Nick grabbed Sloane’s arm and pulled her closer to whisper as they kept moving to try and find their suspect. “Phoebe, that was the name of the girl Haylee mentioned.”

She nodded, remembering as well. “Coincidence?” Sloane asked dubiously.

Nick huffed. Knowing someone was dead now definitely put more pressure on grabbing Margo before anyone else got hurt.

Margo had paused when the announcement was made, feeling her gut roll that Phoebe had been found already. She’d thought it’d be at least another day, but one of her friends must’ve known where she was staying. She took a deep breath, calming her nerves. No one would suspect her, that she knew, and she’d been careful not to leave any bits of her behind. She’d come this far, no one else had to be hurt. She just needed to keep going.

Finally, Margo spotted her quarry. John was wearing a blue shirt and a charcoal and gold pinstriped vest, looking dashing even among the other decent looking men around him.  They were murmuring still about Phoebe being found dead, all of them looking upset. “John?”

John looked up and blinked. “…Yes?”

“Sorry, have you been waiting long?” she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear coyly. “I tried to get here as soon as I could.”

“…Sorry, but, uh…I don’t think I know you?” he said uncertainly.

Margo just smiled. “John…it’s me, Margo.”

 “…No you aren’t?” he said, laughing a little. A couple of the others he’d been chatting with murmured curiously.

“Yes, it’s me!” she laughed more at his disbelief. “I look good, right?”

“You aren’t Margo Barnett,” he said a bit more firmly. “I’ve known Margo since we were kids. I saw her two days ago. You aren’t Margo.” The others all looked shocked as well. “Not sure what kind of joke you’re playing but I’m not falling for it.”

Margo frowned, feeling hurt. “John…it’s me. Like…Okay, so remember when we were in middle school and you found your dad’s golf clubs? And you started hitting the balls and stuff, but you hit one too far and smashed your neighbor’s car window? How we scrambled to hide them, find that ball and then try to pin it on a bird instead by catching it and tossing it through the window, but gently as possible?”

John stared in shock. “I…Margo? How…?”

She grinned. “I found a cheat code I guess you could say…what do you think?”

“I…well, you look…great,” he said slowly, but he looked still confused and befuddled.

“I’ll say,” one guy—she remembered him vaguely being on the baseball team with John—said. “You’re hot, Margo!”

“I know, right?” she squealed.

“Yeah! Large Marge is no more. Ding dong, the fatty’s gone,” someone else said, making the others laugh.

Margo winced, feeling a little a little jolt of hurt still go through her even though that nickname shouldn’t hurt her now. Haylee’s words were in her head again. _They’ll only like you because you’re thinner…_

“Hey, not cool,” John frowned disapprovingly at the man who made the comment. Margo smiled at him defending her honor.

“Oh, so that hasn’t changed,” another chuckled. “Still playing the hero, Johnny?”

John sighed and then turned back to her. “…Let’s talk over here.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the side of the room reception area, near some pillars. Margo’s heartbeat ratcheted up and she put those negative thoughts behind her. She squeezed John’s hand excitedly. He let go then though and turned, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Margo…what did you do to yourself?”

Margo’s smile dimmed. “What?”

John looked her over again like he was looking at a stranger. “You…God, Margo, I didn’t recognize you. I’ve been friends with you since we were in grade school and I didn’t recognize you…your figure, your hair, even your eyes…they all look different…”

“I know…? I mean, that’s what a makeover is about,” she laughed.

 “Margo, you were fine before,” he said, sounding exasperated.

“No I wasn’t! No one wanted me before!” she said. “You and Haylee keep saying things like that, but you don’t understand!”

John shook his head. “Margo, screw other people! You were fine as you were. I liked you as you were, I don’t know who this is.”

“It’s still me,” she said almost desperately. She took his hand from her shoulder and pressed it to her chest. “It’s still me inside, John.”

“…Margo, whatever you did isn’t natural…this isn’t right…It can’t be healthy-”

“It’s fine. I did it for me…I did it so I’d finally be able to stand in front of you and tell you something…”

“Margo-” he started, looking like he was bracing himself.

“John, I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids!” she said desperately, squeezing his hand hard as if to keep him tethered. John closed his eyes, looking a bit like she’d just ripped a band aid off of him. “John?”

“Margo…I don’t…feel that way about you,” he sighed.

This wasn’t how she saw this going. In her head she’d tell him and he’d say he felt the same and they’d be together, the envy of everyone there. It was a fantasy, but she thought it was finally attainable now that she was the kind of pretty they wanted. Now it was still slipping away; it felt like the floor was crumbling out from under her. “…What? But…But I’m pretty now…”

He shook his head. “That isn’t…that doesn’t matter. Margo, I knew…I knew how you felt.”

Margo felt a bit like someone had punched her in the gut, it was hard to breathe and her grip weakened. “You did?”

John took his hand back slowly. “Yeah…It was kind of…hard not to notice. But I saw you as a friend. Almost a sister-”

“Don’t say that!” she almost shouted. John flinched but sighed. “Why…why am I not good enough for you still? I’m beautiful, why do you still see me as nothing?”

“Margo, I told you, that’s not it…”

“You…you don’t treat Haylee like a sister…” she said bitterly.

“I do,” he said. “I don’t have feelings for either of you that way. Neither of you are my type.”

“What, are you gay?” she snapped.

He frowned. “Bi, actually.” Margo blinked in surprise and he sighed. “I’ve mentioned it before.”

“I…didn’t think you were serious…” she said quietly, her face burning.

John sighed and shook his head as though he expected that. He was disappointed in her, but before she could say anything he continued. Dan’s words were coming back to her, about how she didn’t love him, mixing with Phoebe’s about how she didn’t care about people. It wasn’t true though, she loved John! She always had! Why was he still not in love with her? “My point is, I’m not attracted to either of you. You’re like sisters to me.”

She shook her head, her fire stoking again. “That’s not what I see! Not the way you look at Haylee and touch her! I saw you two, cuddling on the couch the other night.”

“Cuddling on the-I was trying to comfort her,” he said, frustration boiling over. “Margo, not everything is about liking someone more than you. This isn’t high school anymore.  Haylee was looking through pictures of your mom and broke down because she didn’t get to be there at the end and you did everything for her. I was trying to comfort her. She felt guilty.”

“Well she should!” she snarled. “I put my life on hold for a woman who put me second ever since we were kids! All because she wanted Haylee to be a model, and instead she wants to be a writer and I never heard the end of how she was “wasting her potential”.  Haylee should feel guilty about me doing that for her, dealing with that all for her.”

“You don’t mean that-” he started, sounding exasperated.

“I do! Haylee had everything! The looks, the friends, all of it! And you…did both of you hang out with the people that picked on me?” she accused.

“What?” he asked, not prepared for the sudden shift.

“Phoebe told me. She said she’d invite you and Haylee, but no me, to parties and stuff and you’d go without me. Because sometimes you didn’t want to be around me.”

John flinched looked away awkwardly.

“…You did,” she said quietly. “You and my sister would go behind my back to hang out with and be friends with the people that made me miserable? Because you didn’t want to hang out with me?”

“It was just a couple of parties,” John sighed. “Our other friends were going and you were usually doing something else anyway or would’ve been miserable there.”

“Oh, I was invited?” she asked, spiteful.

John sighed. “It was high school, Margo, over ten years ago.”

“She said that too,” she sneered. “But I’ve felt like I’m trapped there this whole damn time, and it feels as fresh as ever just finding it out now.”

“…I’m sorry. We didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” he said honestly. But then he frowned. “Wait, when did Phoebe tell you this?”

“What does it matter?”

“You heard that announcement, she was found dead! You might’ve been the last person to see her-”

“Or I might’ve killed her. Is that what you’re thinking?” she asked a touch hysterical.

“What? No, I know you wouldn’t,” he laughed.

“You don’t know anything about me. And I don’t know anything about you—not like I thought. You’re just like-like everyone else! You thought I was a fat, pathetic loser!”

“Margo, I-”

“And I changed everything about me! You’re supposed to love me now! After everything I did to become beautiful, all the pain I caused, I’m supposed to be beautiful! It’s my right, even if I had to take it by force! You’re just as two faced as everyone else!”

John looked at her in shock. “Margo, what is wrong with you?”

“NOTHING! There is nothing wrong with me, why does everyone keep asking that?! What? I have to be the doormat forever? I’m not-”

He shook his head, the shock turning to horror. “No, Margo, there is something wrong, y-you’re face…it’s melting…”

Margo froze and realized the side of her face was heavier. She reached up and felt her cheek and her heart stopped when she could feel the almost putty like texture of her skin. Grabbing her purse she scoured inside and pulled out a compact mirror. Before John could stop her she snapped it open to look. The side of her face was beginning to droop like melting candlewax, leaving deep bags of skin around her cheekbones and eye. What skin was there was beginning to flare in in a red rash-like irritation that burned like fire where she touched, turning dry and flakey in some areas and started to ooze in others. It was like the painful acne she had in her teens, but a hundred times worse and now spreading down her neck to her chest. “No…NO!!” She screamed, throwing the mirror down and rushing out of the room with her hands over her face.

“Margo?!”

Nick and Sloane saw her go and pushed through the crowd to follow, John trying to do so as well. Margo was weaving through them, her arms covering her face and trying to keep her head down, bumping into people roughly as she tried to get to the doors.

“Margo Barnett!” Nick called out.

Margo jerked when he did and smashed into a man and a woman who were walking the other way and all of them went sprawling to the ground.

“Hey, watch it!” the man said.

“What are you…oh…oh my god…” the woman said, backing up even on the floor. “What’s wrong with your face?”

Other people who had gathered, making it harder for Nick and Sloane to get through, though even they had slowed in shock when they saw her face. It was melting, sloughing off her bones, a rash spreading down her shoulders and one of her arms. Everyone was looking at Margo in confusion and a bit of revulsion. Margo felt like she was swimming in a rolling sea of faces, all of them now normal and better than hers, judging her—disgusted by her. “Stop…stop looking at me!” She stood and raced off again so hard both her heels came off so she could run faster barefoot towards the door.

“Dammit!” Sloane cursed, pushing her way through roughly and trying to catch up, Nick moving along the side of the room where there were less people. By the time they got out there though, they had no idea where Margo had gone.

“She got away,” Nick growled. “Did…did you see her face?”

Sloane swallowed but nodded. “I think she’s unstable, like Angela said.”

“Yeah…but she’s unstable in other ways too.”

“She can’t have gone far yet,” Sloane pointed out. “You go up the street, I’ll go down.”

“Right.” They split up, jogging down the sidewalk on either side. Down town on a Sunday night was crowded and busy though, with a lot of people milling about. Nick closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to see if he could focus his hearing. But there were too many people, cars, sirens, music—it was sensory overload. He grunted and shook his head, not even going pale in the effort. There was no way he was going to find anyone in all that noise.

His head was still throbbing a little when he felt his phone buzz and ring in his pocket. “Yeah?”

“Nick?” Hank asked.

“Hank?”

“And Sloane,” Sloane said. “He wanted us both on the line.”

“Yeah. I’ve been checking into murders from the last twenty-four hours, found one Phoebe Lafayette. She went to the same school as Margo and Haylee—”

“Sorry to interrupt Hank, but we actually figured that part out. They announced it at the reunion and added her to the memorium,” Nick said.

“Well, I doubt they knew what happened to her exactly,” he went on. “She was found without one eye, and mutilated pretty badly. The eye, some hair and some blood and skin are all missing from the scene.”

“Oh God,” Nick groaned, trying not to imagine that too graphically.

“She’s escalated a lot,” Sloane said. “And it hasn’t gone in her favor. The effects are turning on themselves, _bad._ I’ve seen acid attacks before; she’s almost looking like that.”

“I was afraid of that,” Angela’s voice came through. “I examined the skin sample you got. Her first try was successful and might not have turned, but trying to do this three times in three days and escalating each time, without a hexenbeast’s skill to stabilize the spell, is undoing her at the seams physically.”

“Well, she gave us the slip unfortunately,” Nick growled. “We’re not sure where she’s gone…”

“It’s only going to get progressively worse,” Angela said. “I’ve made an “antidote” essentially, but I need to be the one to administer it for it to work. It will keep her body from just completely degenerating into a blob.”

They were all quiet for a moment, trying to think, before Renard spoke up from his quiet contemplation at his desk. “Would she head home? She might think it’s safe there, alone.”

“She’s not alone; her sister is…there…” Sloane started, horror growing in her stomach. “Oh…You said she stole three of those bath things, if she’s only used two…”

“She could think that last one might fix her,” Nick finished. “We need to get to her place!”

“You think she’d hurt her sister?” Hank asked, though it sounded like they were already moving.

“I’m not putting much past her in her state of mind.”

\----------------

Margo stumbled through the alleys trying to keep her face covered. Her feet were cold and it hurt to walk on the bare ground in just her stockings—which were now shredded and had runs in them from her mad dash out of the hotel. Her lovely, sexy dress was feeling tighter by the minute and she gripped the side of her thigh when she felt a seam pop. Why? Why was it going so wrong now? She’d finally had the body and face she wanted, why was her body betraying her now? Why had John shot her down?

There was a vagrant in the alley that looked up and then cursed and backed away from her. Moving again, she got out and made her way to the parking garage where she parked her car. Climbing in, she caught a brief glimpse of her reflection and let out a keening, whining sob. Her eyes were blood shot, painful and red. So was her skin, large blemishes that were more like boils than pimples scattered like a splatter of white paint over the redness of her skin. The side of her face was still sagging like melting cheese, making it hard to even blink. With a shriek she grabbed the rearview mirror and actually ripped it off, throwing it behind her in an adrenaline fueled rage. Shaking, she breathed deeply before she grabbed her keys out of her purse and started the car.

She wasn’t even aware of driving really. It was second nature, even instinctual to make it back to her townhouse. She focused more on keeping others from seeing her face. Her right eye was burning from not being able to blink properly and she was having trouble seeing out of it now too. She managed to get to her parking space, though she jumped the curb with a harsh bump. Getting out, she lurched towards her door and scrambled to open it, teetering inside and slamming it closed. She threw her hand out and turned off the hall light nearby, not wanting to feel the light on her. “Why…why why why whywhywhy?” she sobbed over and over. After everything she’d done, why this? Karma? Punishment? The pain she caused was already passed, it was a waste to do this to her now!

She stumbled through the archway to the kitchen, sitting down at the small table there in the dark while her mind spiraled downward.

“Margo?” Margo tensed when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs nearby. The light was on and she could see her sister coming. Haylee was dressed in a blue-green dress, having been getting ready to go to the reunion. “Margo? Are you okay? Why are you back so soon? And why are you sitting in the dark?” She moved to the second switch near the hall.

“Don’t!” Margo practically yelled. “I don’t…want anyone to see me…”

“What? Why?” Haylee moved forward, her brow puckered in worry. “What happened?”

“I just wanted to be pretty,” she sobbed. “I just wanted people to like me…I just wanted to stop feeling so awful about myself…I wanted them to stop making me feel awful!”

“Who?”

“Everyone! Phoebe, Dan, John…mom…you…I was always compared to you, everyone always asking if we’re really twins, if we’re really sisters…Mom wanting me to be like you …”

Haylee frowned, her heart breaking a little at the sorrowful tone of her voice. “Margo…Mom loved you-”

“Don’t try and sell me that,” she spat through a sob. “Whatever she felt for me, it wasn’t as much as you.”

“You’re wrong! You took care of mom, you-”

“Yeah, because she thought you living out your life was more important than whatever I had going on,” she said, nearly choking on the venom in her voice. She stood abruptly enough to startle her sister and knock the chair she was sitting in over. “She had all these hopes for you to be a model, carry on her legacy or whatever—and nothing for me. “Oh, you’re going into accounting, Margie? Well, I guess that’ll be good then.” Nothing I did for her was ever good enough. She was no different from anyone else. Pushing me since we were kids to diet, to exercise...It wasn’t any better living with her, the snide comments about what I ate and wore and dating Dan…”

“I…Margo, I’m sorry, but mom wasn’t like that,” Haylee said, shaking her head.

“Not to you. You were the perfect sister, up until you said no to modeling. Even then she thought you’d come around. “Too pretty to be stuck behind a desk all day.” That’s what she’d say. And I tried so hard to get half that recognition from anyone. I just wanted someone to love me, but I had to change everything to do it. To get even a bit of that feeling. Wanna see what it did to me?” She stepped forward into the bit of light from the hall, letting it shine on her sagging face.

Haylee covered her mouth and backed up. “O-oh my god…Margo, what…”

Margo felt her eyes well up. “Pretty bad, huh? It’s okay though…I’m going to fix it…”

“F-fix it? Ho…how can you fix this, Margo?” Haylee said, stepping forward now. She looked close to tears for her.

“I need your help,” Margo said slowly.

“Yeah, of course…Whatever you need,” she said, nodding and moving to take her hand.

Margo smiled as best she could, squeezing her hand a moment. Then she let go, and with both hands, reached up to cup her face. One hand was starting to break out in the boil-like welts and bloat up and swell. “I always wanted to look just like you…” Her hands trailed down and then fitted around Haylee’s neck, squeezing hard.

Haylee grunted and then coughed reaching up to grab her wrists, confusion and fear clear on her face. “M…Margo…?”

Margo stared into her eyes with an eerie sort of resignation. “I’m sorry about this…But I need it.”

Haylee felt a chill drop like a stone to the pit of her stomach and then brought her arm up, twisting her body and bringing it down over Margo’s arms to break her hold. She’d taken plenty of self-defense courses living in New York, but she never thought she’d have to use them against her sister. She backed away, rubbing her throat. “What is wrong with you?!”

Margo didn’t react like she normally would, defensively, as Haylee expected. Instead she eyed her like an animal sizing up its prey. “Everyone keeps asking that…Nothing is wrong with me, I’m just taking what I’m owed. And from you, I need to take something from you to make this work…And it’s going to be painful…” She reached over to her block of knives and pulled out one of the larger, scarier ones. “I need your heart to make this work…To be just like you.”

Haylee swallowed and then turned to run for the back of the townhouse. Margo followed, still able to run easily despite her sore feet and blurring vision. She tackled Haylee to the ground, wrestling with her as her sister screamed for help.

Outside, Nick and the others had just arrived when they heard the commotion inside. He, Sloane and Hank rushed up the steps, Nick being the first to try the door and thankfully finding it unlocked. The barreled in, weapons drawn. “Portland PD!”

The struggle didn’t pause, Margo now and Haylee rolling across the ground. Margo got the upper hand, holding the knife above her head. She must not have even heard them through the adrenaline and blood rushing through her ears. “JUST HOLD STILL!!”

“Margo, please!” Haylee sobbed.

“Drop the knife!” Nick was yelling, holding up his gun. Margo looked up and Hank sucked in a breath at the sight of her face.

“Get out! Don’t look at me!” she yelled.

“Margo Barnett, you are under arrest for the murder of Phoebe Lafayette,” Sloane barked.

“What?” Haylee asked, shocked.

“GET OUT!!” she yelled again. “I need to fix this!”

“There is no fixing this, Margo,” Nick said seriously. Next to him, Angela was pulling something out of her purse that looked like a jar of liquid charcoal. “But you can stop now before you make a bigger mistake. Let Haylee up. She’s your sister, right? You don’t actually want to kill her.”

“I need to fix it…” she said again, crying. “I can’t…I can’t live like this…I just wanted someone to love me…to love me…I just…wanted to love me…” She screamed and turned to raise the knife up.

“Hey!” With a shout that distracted Margo for just the second she needed, Angela magicked the jar through the air at lightning speed and smashed it against Margo’s head as she was turning her wild-eyed gaze around. Margo screamed and dropped the knife as the black substance that was in the jar trailed down her head and her face. Plumes of acrid black smoke were leaving her skin as though she’d been lit on fire. Haylee watched in shock but Nick was grabbing her and pulling her out from under her sister as she writhed with her hands over her face.

“W…what did you do to her?” Haylee asked in a hoarse whisper. She had some cuts over her arms from trying to defend herself, but was still looking at her sister with a mix of worry and fear.

“It’s a stabilizer…” Angela said, coming closer to watch Margo as she curled up with her hands over her face. “It’s not going to completely reverse everything she’s done to herself, but it’ll help a little and keep her from getting worse.”

“Good…th-that’s good…but…you said she killed Phoebe? She wouldn’t…Phoebe isn’t…” Haylee said.

“She just tried to kill you,” Sloane pointed out, Hank going over to handcuff Margo as she cried on the floor.

“Let me go! What did you do to me?! Let me see my face,” she screamed, trying to struggle. Outside more sirens were coming, the flashing blue and red pulsing through the room.

“Margo, stop-stop fighting them! Don’t hurt her, please-” Haylee started.

“Stop that! Stop trying to play at being the good sister! I hate you!” she yelled. Her face was shrunken back, no longer melting, but it was still red all down that half of her face, like it was stained with blood. The eye on that side was back to being brown, but had a slight milky quality to it. “I hate you …why couldn’t you just stay away…” she sobbed.

Haylee was dumbfounded and numbly watched as Hank pulled Margo towards the door and out to the police officers. “I…I don’t understand…How did this happen? Why?” she asked, confused and lost.

Angela looked down with resigned guilt. “I…will explain some of what happened. A lot of this is my fault…But I also need to get something from your sister’s room. Something that belongs to me.” Haylee looked at her in confusion, starting to cry as she cradled her bleeding arm.

Nick sighed, glancing at Sloane. Sloane looked as resigned as he was, then they tensed as they heard a scream outside. Rushing to the door, Margo was collapsed on her knees, having broken from Hanks grip enough to look into the side mirror of one of the cars. After that one scream of pure terror and sorrow though, she quieted, staring at her reflection, everything just fading away as she stared, only seeing every new imperfection in her face.

 ------------------------

“So, Margo’s in an institution?” Rosalee asked. They were meeting up at the spice shop to give a rundown of what happened while she and Monroe closed up.

“For now,” Nick sighed. “She just kind of…shut down when she saw her face.”

“She catatonic,” Sloane nodded. “She’s also under lockdown and suicide watch apparently. It’s kind of a debate if she’ll be fit to stand trial.”

“So they know she killed that girl?”

“Oh yeah. Angela managed to sneak her book out, but when they searched Margo’s room we found bloody clothes and…other bits,” Hank grimaced. “DNA will be a while, but it it’s obvious she killed _somebody_.”

“I’m still not sure we should’ve let her take that book…Angela, I mean,” Sloane huffed.

Nick shrugged. “Hey, she’s trying to make up for what happened and hasn’t used a spell like that.”

“That’s what she tells us,” she pointed out.

“Well, let’s believe her for now,” he said a bit more firmly. Sloane rolled her eyes but didn’t push the subject. “In any case, Haylee is sticking around to see the trial through, however long that takes, and try to get Margo some help. She’s ashamed she didn’t do more for her before now and blames herself.”

“And Angela is helping out by giving her a job at _Moonflower_.”

“Seriously?” Monroe asked.

“Yeah. Haylee doesn’t blame her; she says she knows this was probably brewing for a while.”

“Was that a pun?” Sloane asked, mock disgusted.

“Unintentional,” Nick said, wincing in regret. “But it’s got Haylee wanting to learn more about all of…this, so Angela is introducing her slowly.”

“I know she assaulted and murdered people, but I almost feel a little sorry for this Margo,” Monroe said. “I mean, a hard life is no excuse obviously, but to feel like you have to go that far just to be loved…”

“I get how it’s sad,” Rosalee agreed with a sigh. “We’ve all been through some tough things as well, but we were lucky to have other people…To tell us we weren’t crazy, or alone, or ugly.”

Nick was nodding, wondering what he’d have done if his powers had come when Aunt Marie was already gone and he’d had to deal with them alone. What he’d do if he had to deal with any of this alone. Even together, some things felt overwhelming sometimes. He still wasn’t sure what these heightened senses meant after all, his death-like states and almost inhuman moments of strength and reflexes.

Sloane was looking deep in thought inwards. “Sometimes that’s not enough...” They glanced at her, wondering what brought that thought on and she noticed and shook her head. “Sorry, just…It can be too little too late sometimes. Especially when it all hits close to home. Even I know that,” she said, trying to smile.

“Yeah…” Hank sighed. “…I’m gonna call my cousin tonight, see how she’s doing…We haven’t talked in a while.”

Nick smiled and patted his back, looking around and thinking how lucky they were in more ways than most.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I did struggle a bit with this one. I liked the concept--based around stories like Diamonds and Toads and other archetypes with the good sister and the bad sister. But I worried it was coming across as fatphobic or mean. I tried to make it as obvious as I could that it was impossible beauty standards and Margo's upbringing that had these events go the way they did...I definitely understand the frustrations of not fitting into that box. I wanted to try and make sure the feeling was that no one should have to change and put themselves through all that, or take it out on others.
> 
> Well, back to the show story lines next time, with El Cucuy and Stories We Tell Our Young!


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